Libera Me
by YellowDancer
Summary: The final chapter of Libera Me begins. The odds are stacked in Beatrice's favor. How can they possibly defeat her without a miracle?
1. Hunger

**Note from Author:**

**This is the first story I've ever posted to fanfiction.net! Yeah!!!! I haven't written a lot of fanfic because most of my writing inspiration has gone toward an original piece of fiction I've been working on for many a year now, but I've been a reader of fanfic for a long time.**

**I apologize if the story is a bit OOC in places. I took some liberties with character development and back-story, but it's AU anyway since it's a crossover (I still can't believe I wrote a crossover . . . I'm generally not a fan of crossover fics, but Dante just insisted on showing up). Also, my apologies if any of my name spellings or terminology seem incorrect. I watched the show originally on fansubs with questionable translations.**

**Alas, Witch Hunter Robin does not belong to me, nor does Devil May Cry. I'm just borrowing the characters for a short time to give my original characters a break from their torture. **

**CYMON: rolls his eyes It's about time.**

**Oh, you enjoy the torture, Cymon, and you know it.**

**I should also warn you that this story may include some adult situations and fantasy violence. Parental discretion is advised. Sorry, I couldn't help myself! Just flashing back to my days of watching Highlander on USA and the stupid warning before every single episode.**

**Anywho . . . I hope you enjoy the story. Let me know what you think. **

Chapter 1

Hunger

Shivering in the cold, Touko slipped her arm around Amon's and snuggled closer as they approached her apartment building. He did not respond to her touch, did not even look down at her with a smile or touch her hand lightly with his own. Touko knew such things should bother her, yet she pushed the thought aside with a wistful sigh. Amon was not like the men she'd dated in the past, to which part of her said he was a good thing for her since she had her share of boyfriends with stalker tendencies in the past. They had barely given her enough space to breathe, and she hated that feeling. So, she told herself, the gaping, emotionless chasm Amon kept between them was a far better thing.

Amon gently disentangled himself from her grasp as they paused at the building's front steps, but she caught his arm again with a smile. Meeting his confused glance, she explained with a smile, "It's all right. You can come up tonight. Robin said she would be out late.

His eyes narrowed. "Late?" He was clearly wondering what time "late" would mean for Robin. "I don't think that's a good idea.

Tightening her grasp on his arm, she pulled him up the steps behind her. "She said she was going to visit Michael at the office. Judging by such visits in the past, we have several hours." She looked back to see questions clouding his face as she pushed open the front door. "What is it?

Shaking his head brusquely, he replied, "Nothing." He followed her to the elevator. She let him stew in silence, amused by the way she could almost see the wheels turning in his pretty head, working away at something. She waited patiently as they stepped off on her floor and she reached for her keys, sensing he was working himself up to a question. "How often does she make these trips to see Michael?" he inquired finally.

She smiled somewhat sourly, grateful he could not see her expression with her back to him. He was so predictable sometimes. The door swung open and she stepped inside, taking off her shoes before answering him. "Oh, I don't know . . . once a week I would say. At least." She paused, watching him remove his boots and enjoying the view as he bent over. "Would you like some coffee?

His dark eyes glanced up at her for the briefest of moments. "Sure.

He didn't follow her into the kitchen, pausing for a moment at the intersection of hallways, and she caught him looking at the door to the room he certainly knew was Robin's. A frown crossed her face before she managed to suppress it. She refused to even acknowledge all the evidence he practically threw at her feet of his changing feelings for the young hunter, supposing he was as unaware of the evidence as he was of the feelings. Even so, Touko knew in her gut that with all the proof piling up, it would soon be high enough for them to start tripping over it. She would rather avoid such thoughts though. Her father had warned her she was making a mistake by pursuing Amon, but she hadn't listened. Now, she refused to admit he was right, and so continued to delude herself with the notion that she could keep Amon chained to her no matter what happened.

Smiling seductively once she had the coffee brewing, she wandered her way across the room to where Amon waited, seated silently on the couch. He watched her without expression, but she could sense a fire burning behind his eyes. She slid down on the couch next to him, folding one of her legs under her, relishing the feeling of knowing he wanted her. With the knowledge that she would probably never know his feelings, or even if she was part of them, she enjoyed the satisfaction of the hold she had on him through his need. Tension built in the air between them as she waited, testing his patience, forcing him to make the first move.

Control of the situation completely eluded her grasp though when she found herself sandwiched between him and the huge pillow at the end of the couch, his lips and tongue exploring hers with feverish need. Having difficulty breathing, let alone thinking, she didn't have the faculties to recall exactly how they had gotten into such a position, nor did she truly care. She was as hungry for him as he was for her.

Hands touched her, tracing familiar paths in their accustomed ritual. Such encounters with Amon were becoming habit for both of them, and they both fell into the pattern with such abandon they momentarily forgot they were in her apartment and not his. Her hands had adeptly unbuttoned half his shirt and his hands had pushed her skirt nearly up to her waist before they heard the key in the lock.

Amon pulled away from her and rose to his feet as if he had been burned, leaving her feeling very chilled and vulnerable on the couch. She watched his back as she heard the door open, watching his muscles move beneath his shirt as his lungs expanded and contracted with ragged breaths.

Keys rattled to the floor.

Touko stood up suddenly, pushing her skirt down in haste. She felt very annoyed with Amon, though she wasn't completely sure why. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed almost ashamed of what they had been doing, turning his back on her without a second thought. The evidence piled a little higher. She spun on her heel and flew past the stunned girl in the doorway without even looking in her direction, stomping into her room and practically slamming the door. _Well, that was mature, Touko_, she thought to herself as she leaned back against the closed door. _Its good to see you can still throw a tantrum like a two-year-old._ A tear slid down her face and dropped to the floor, disappearing in the carpet.

-----

Amon felt Robin's green eyes boring holes into his back without even seeing them. He didn't need to look at her to imagine the look of shock on her expressive face in vivid detail down to the stray bangs falling in her face and the flush coloring her cheeks. The room suddenly felt very cold and he repressed a shiver, refusing to button his shirt back up like some embarrassed adolescent caught doing something he shouldn't. He had a sneaking suspicion that this situation wouldn't be affecting him so deeply if it had been anyone other than Robin who had walked though that door.

"Amon . . ." The way she always whispered his name as if it were a prayer tugged at something deep inside him. How she managed to break through all his defenses as if they were paper with that one word baffled him, and yet she did every time she spoke it, no matter the circumstances, no matter his frame of mind at the time. "I-I'm sorry," Robin continued in her ethereal half-whisper despairingly.

He heard the sound of her skirt against the floor as she turned back to the door. "Robin." He didn't think he had quite snapped at her, though he could imagine her flinch. "Stay. I'm leaving." He reached for his coat and threw it around his shoulders, fastening it hastily, his shirt still unbuttoned beneath.

Robin didn't even look up at him as he passed her, and he was grateful because he had been dreading the look in her eyes. She stood to one side of the entrance like a lost child, looking down at her feet. "I'm sorry," he heard her whisper again faintly as he flew down the stairs.

He probably should have at least said something to Touko before he left, but he found he felt little regret in not doing so. They shouldn't have risked going up to her apartment in the first place, let alone allowed themselves to get carried away. Robin already knew about their relationship from what Touko had told him, but it was too awkward to act so openly about it around her. Especially when she was so damned innocent. How she could act like she was thirty half the time and still be so naive was beyond him. Robin was a conundrum; a quandary he was forced to live with which just kept getting more and more complicated. He was beginning to think he would never solve the riddle, and should not even try, because she was dangerous in her own right . . . so dangerous, and yet in so much danger.

What was it about the gentle, soft-spoken, waif of a girl that always unsettled him--aside from the obvious reasons associated with Zaizen's worries? She perpetually found a way through his defenses, and he found himself accommodating her in spite of his better sense. The thought that he would allow anyone to have such power over him frightened him enough to make his mouth dry. But the question remained, how? How did she overpower him so easily? It wasn't physical attraction. Her appearance was striking, though she was not a conventional sort of beauty, and she was hardly old enough to possess the mature figure which had drawn him to Touko. But if it was simply her appearance, which captivated him so relentlessly, he knew he could have mastered the desire long ago.

No, it was far beyond lust. Zaizen had asked him in the past why he went out of his way for this girl he was supposed to keep his eye on and kill if necessary. But Amon wondered how anyone could refuse the temptation to do whatever it took to please her when they saw that look in her eyes. The look which made him ache inside with the desire to turn his back on all his orders and all his common sense and all his years of emotional exile, and simply gather her into his arms and hold her until she forgot whatever it was that made her eyes so eternally sad and lonely. Her sweet innocence and silent, gentle perseverance in the face of cruelty and contempt--gifts he had showered her with since her arrival--stunned him into senselessness and made him respect her despite every logical thought which told him to keep her as distant from him as the stars. Time, and time again, regardless of his efforts, regardless of his orders, he found himself seeing the stars in her eyes, close enough to touch, and worshipping them.

Shaking such thoughts out of his head, he stepped out of the building, breathing the cold air into his lungs with relief. He wondered what Touko was thinking right now. If she was resentful with him for leaving her with her hunger unsated. A bitter smile touched his lips. He wondered if she knew that it had been quite some time since she had been able to sate his own hunger. His appetite kept growing, in spite of himself, every time he looked in that young craft user's eyes.

----- Next Chapter "Round Robin" Coming soon . . . 


	2. Round Robin

**Author's Note:**

Here's where things get quirky. At this point I feel I should mention that the original draft of this fic was a crazy ass parody thing which kept getting serious in spots. Somehow, the serious spots started inspiring me more and I decided to take it in that direction instead. As a result, I had to go back and tone done some of the craziness, yet I couldn't bring myself to take it all out. Hence, we have some random quirkiness thrown in every so often. I apologize to any huge Sakaki fans who don't like how I quirked up his character. It just happened somehow.

Also, the last scene of this chapter marks sort of a deviation from the canon plot inspired by that odd scene in the series after the attack on Touko's and Robin's apartment. You know which one. Or you will figure it out at least. Maybe not at this point in the story, but eventually. Sorry. One of my friends would be calling me pretentious now . . .

Oh, and yes, for those of you who have asked, this is going to be AxR in the end. But I try to include all of the characters on the fun, so everyone gets a chance to show their point of view. No worries. Everybody happy--well maybe not everybody. Some people are only happy when it rains . . . but that's not until the next chapter.

Chapter 2

Round Robin

The atmosphere in the STN-J was sleepy and quiet before Amon walked into the office almost an hour late. Sakaki sat blinking at his computer monitor lazily, his eye movements still sluggish with sleep. Karasuma was in the kitchen chatting with Hattori, and Chief Kosaka was glaring out of his office at the rookie dozing at his desk. Michael, on the other hand was busily typing away at his computer, trying to keep his mind occupied. Scooping up the papers he had just printed out, Michael turned to Sakaki.

"Here's the stuff you wanted, Sakaki," he announced.

Catching himself from falling asleep, Sakaki mumbled, "Huh? I'm awake. Oh. Thanks, Michael." His eyes lit up as he scanned the papers.

As Michael was leaning back in his chair, Amon brushed by him without even looking his direction, oblivious to the frown Michael threw his way at his passing. The older hunter stopped in front of his desk and shook the dampness of the morning's fog off his coat before starting to remove it. He paused when his eyes fell on Robin's empty workstation. "Has Robin not come in yet?" he inquired, his voice acquiring a frosty edge and his hands still paused in the act of removing his coat.

"Not yet," Michael replied with a hint of worry.

"Has anyone called her?" Amon continued, the edge in his voice sharpening.

"Yeah," Michael answered quickly. "No answer. I tried several times.

"When was this?" Amon's voice held a sense of worry, which seemed out of place on him, especially when it was related to Robin of all people.

"The last time was ten minutes ago.

"Why didn't anyone contact me?

Impatience bordering on anger flared in Michael. Why did he suddenly feel like he was being interrogated? He opened his mouth to reply, but Sakaki interrupted his thoughts with a cry of horror.

"You've gotta be frickin' kidding me! After the hours upon hours I put into collecting those purifying salts! After all the random encounters!" Sakaki shook his head and buried it in his hands desolately. "This is the worst!" he continued, grumbling under his breath. "After the damn frickin' chocobo race and the damn frickin' birds! After dodging all those lightning bolts, only to get to 99 and miss! After the damn frickin' _butterflies!_ _This_ is the worst."

Michael was grateful for the interruption when he saw Amon glance down at Sakaki with a raised eyebrow, his expression still thinly veiled anger. Karasuma poked her head out of the kitchen and frowned when her eyes fell on Sakaki. Putting her hands on her hips, she marched across the office to the rookie's desk and snatched the papers off his lap. "What is going on with you lately, Sakaki?" she demanded, looking at the papers. "What is this?

Sighing, Michael answered her reluctantly, knowing Amon had seen him hand the papers to Sakaki and feeling the hunter's eyes on him again. "It's just a walkthrough I printed out for him.

"A . . . walkthrough?"

"For a video game."

Sakaki seemed to be curling into a little ball in his chair as he heard this exchange.

"A video game?!" Karasuma practically crumpled the papers into a ball as her hand turned into a fist. "That's why you haven't been getting enough sleep? That's why you're barely coherent half the time?!"

"Well, at least I come in to work on time," Sakaki retorted. "Unlike just about everyone else around here."

Kosaka stepped out of his office. "Not that you do any work while you're here."

Restraining a smile, Michael turned back to face his computer, momentarily forgetting that he never had answered Amon's question. A hand came down firmly on his shoulder. "Maybe you should try calling Robin again," Amon stated.

"Oh, she's probably just playing hooky with Doujima," Sakaki muttered. "You don't see _her_ here yet, do you?"

"That's highly unlikely. Skipping work isn't in Robin's character," Amon commented softly.

_How would he know?_ Michael wondered. Amon seemed to try so hard to ignore Robin, as if she'd disappear if he pretended she didn't exist. Robin, on the other hand, spent most of her time trying to earn his respect. Michael didn't have a clue why she continued to work so hard for Amon's approval when he never even bothered to acknowledge her, and though Michael sympathized with her, he thought she was wasting her time. Amon seemed to have already made up his mind about her, and no matter how good she was at finding her way into people's hearts, Amon's heart, if he had one, was buried under several layers of ice and rock.

Nevertheless, Michael did as Amon had asked and dialed Robin's phone again. He did it as much for himself as for anyone else. Robin's absence worried him, all the more so since she had come to visit him the night before and had left early because she wasn't feeling well.

The phone rang . . . and rang . . . and rang . . .

The answering machine picked up and Michael hung up, scowling at the phone. "No answer," he reported. He tried her cell phone. Still no answer. An uneasy thought occurred to him. He glanced up at Amon to see the hunter perched on the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes staring somberly at the wall across from him. His expression was difficult to read, but if Michael hadn't known better he would have said Amon looked troubled, and not just mildly.

"I wonder if I should track down her roommate's work number," Michael speculated uncertainly. He took a deep breath, swallowing his self-imposed guilt and his fear of how the knowledge he was about to share would be interpreted. "Robin stopped by last night after work to visit me, but she looked really pale." He saw Sakaki's eyebrows raise and Karasuma turn halfway to look at him, but Amon did not move or even react. He continued in a rush, "She said she felt like she was coming down with something and went home, but now I'm worried that maybe she didn't make it home at all . . ."

"She made it home," Amon reported with no regard to the surprised glances which met his statement. "But this doesn't make sense." Without a second thought, Amon whisked his coat off his chair and started for the door, but he stopped short when he heard the sound of the elevator opening. Michael's head was still spinning from Amon's strange reactions, but the thoughts evaporated when he saw Robin step into the office.

She paused uncertainly when she saw all the eyes focused on her, pushing some of the damp locks out of her face and attempting to put them back in place, but her hair was so disheveled it didn't make much difference. The mud-caked hem of her skirt rippled as she shifted her feet, looking away and swallowing self-consciously. Her cheeks were flushed though her skin otherwise still seemed extraordinarily pale. "Sorry I'm late," she murmured. "I forgot to set my alarm, and my Vespa broke down on the way to work . . ."

"Why didn't you call?" Amon demanded coldly.

Robin's cheeks flushed even brighter. "I left the apartment in such a rush I forgot my phone." Her green eyes were still focused on some abstract surface of the wall or floor, glittering in the light as if she were about to cry. Then, unexpectedly, she sneezed, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief to wipe her nose.

Awkward silence fell then, into which strode Doujima, humming some melody from a pop song as she waltzed off the elevator with a shopping bag tossed over her shoulder. Pushing her sunglasses down on her nose, she surveyed the scene. "Serious crowd already," she mumbled. Then glancing back and forth between Robin and the others she commented, "Um, what's going on? Are you guys playing charades? Lemme see . . . " She squinted at Robin. "Bad hair day?"

A communal gasp met Doujima's faux paus, followed by a pained expression twisting Robin's face. Before anyone could say anything, Robin whispered faintly, "Excuse me," before she fled the room like a bird from a cage.

Doujima's pretty face now wore an expression of discomfort, most likely due to the foul taste of her foot in her mouth. "Well, good job guys," she managed, gathering up her scattered pride. "It looks like you made Robin cry."

_You_ made her cry, dumbass," Sakaki scoffed as he rolled his eyes.

Michael started to rise from his chair, feeling helpless sitting there and wanting to do something for Robin. She was always going out of her way to be nice to him, but he never seemed to get the chance to pay her back. The thought made him a little nervous though. He wasn't sure why, but whenever he was alone with Robin lately he found his stomach filled with butterflies and his mind filled with cotton. He wasn't sure what words he would be able to find to comfort her now, but he had to try. "I'll go check on her," he said with more courage than he felt.

A hand pushed him firmly back in his chair. "Karasuma," Amon said emotionlessly. Michael turned an angry glare up at him, restraining the impulse to shake Amon's hand off his shoulder. "I think it might be best if you check on her." Karasuma looked at Amon curiously. He did not elaborate further, nor did she ask out loud the questions in her eyes.

During Karasuma's long moment of hesitation, Doujima countered, with a defiant glint in her eyes, "Maybe Amon should check on her. She is his partner after all." She met his cold gaze bravely, though even Michael looked away from it despite the fact it wasn't even directed at him.

Shaking her head as if Doujima's idea was ridiculous, Karasuma stated with a sigh, "No. I'll do it.

Amon stopped her with a hand gently brushing against her arm. Michael's eyes narrowed. _Why am I the only one getting the abuse from Amon?_ Eyes dark with anger or annoyance, Amon handed his coat to Karasuma and swept past Doujima in the direction of Robin's retreat without another word.

"Wow," Doujima commented when Amon had disappeared down the hall, leaning back awkwardly to see the doorway he had vanished through. "I hadn't expected him to actually go."

Still fuming, Michael swung his chair back to his computer and jammed his earphones into his ears. Turning up his music, he tried to drown out the world around him.

-----

Sitting on a chair with her back turned to the door, Robin bit her lower lip to keep the tears filling her eyes from spilling over her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to walk out the door and head straight back home, ending this day before it got any worse. But she had no mode of transportation at the moment, and she knew she would never get out of her responsibilities so easily. Not to mention the fact that it would likely please Amon to no end if she showed such weakness. He already thought her barely competent. What would he think if she asked to go home early because she was having a bad day? Well . . . she supposed, it would be more accurate to say it had started with a bad night.

Attempting to distract herself with a task, she began untying the ribbons in her tangled hair, working to put it in order with only her hands to use as a brush. Despite her struggle to focus merely on straightening out her hair, images from the night before kept flashing through her mind. She hadn't seen Touko since the event, and she dreaded that first awkward encounter. Though she had known about their relationship before, interrupting the two of them in the middle of such an obviously intimate situation left her with scattered feelings, some of which surprised her. The uncomfortable situation had made her feel like an intruder in the place she'd started to think of as home, as well as an intruder in her roommate's personal life. She wanted to be friends with Touko and feel at ease around her, but somehow she sensed that Touko didn't want the same thing. Touko treated her kindly, but always kept her at a distance.

And Amon . . . he had never even felt the need to inform her he was dating her roommate in the first place. Even before the incident, he had made her feel as if she was merely an anomaly in his universe and an intrusion in his life. Seeing him there though, and knowing what he had just been doing . . . She took a deep breath to still the panicked rush of confused emotions welling in her at the memory.

At that moment, she finally noticed someone was watching her. Dropping her hands from her loosened hair, she whirled around to find the source of her bewildering emotions standing just inside the doorway, a strange expression in his eyes. He walked farther into the room cautiously, pausing and turning halfway to look back when he was standing next to the couch across from her. "Are you all right?" he inquired, though his tone said he didn't care if she really was or not.

Looking away from his penetrating gaze, she glanced at the floor. "I'm fine," she whispered.

She heard him sit down slowly on the couch, and she could see him lean forward out of the corner of her eyes, his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees. "Were you late today because of what happened last night?"

A blush fired her cheeks almost instantly. He had caught her off-guard with his bluntness. It was true that the night's events might have had something to do with the way her morning had gone since she had barely slept at all, her thoughts keeping her awake most of the night. She wasn't about to admit that though. Not to him. "I just forgot to set my alarm, that's all--"

"Robin." His tone was so commanding that she met his eyes without intending to. Despite the cold expression on his face, his grey eyes actually held a kind of warmth which almost looked like compassion. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked away, exhaling softly. "I don't know what Touko said to you, but I, at least, am not angry with you."

Robin was stunned. His words were among the kindest he'd ever said to her, and she didn't know how to reply. Instead, she simply sat there, looking at her hands in her lap and concentrating on just breathing.

"Where did you leave your Vespa?" he asked after a long pause. Her gaze shot up to his face again in shock, but she managed to mumble out the location despite the way he had completely unnerved her. Nodding, he replied, "We should send someone out to fix it."

Then, apparently feeling the conversation was finished, he rose to his feet. Robin did the same, sensing he expected her to come with him and get down to work. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her for some strange reason, but she managed to stay standing despite the fact that he moved closer as if to walk by her, but paused at her side. Uncertain what to expect from him when he was acting so strangely, she avoided his gaze and tried to calm her nerves. When she saw his hand reach toward her she almost jumped in response.

He caught a few strands of her hair nevertheless and murmured, "You should wear your hair down more often."

Finding her eyes wandering upward again, she saw him looking down at her with an even stranger expression than before. Though his face was a mask, his eyes seemed darker somehow, and burned with some emotion she couldn't even begin to describe. Tension tightened her back and she felt her pulse accelerate. _Why is he looking at me like that?_ Suddenly his gaze dropped slightly and she realized he was looking at her lips. Alarm pounded through her veins and the strange clutter of emotions she associated with the event of the night before washed over her in a torrent.

Suddenly, he tore his gaze away from her with a quick intake of breath, the hand touching her hair dropping to his side. She watched his adam's apple move as he swallowed and wondered what had almost happened. As she watched, she saw him reconstruct the rest of his mask, the expression in his eyes becoming distant and his emotions out of reach once again.

"Amon." Robin started at the sound of the voice, though Amon seemed unperturbed. She looked up to see Zaizen standing in the doorway, looking at her suspiciously. His fierce gaze turned back to Amon. "I need to see you in my office."

-----

Turning to face the director when the office door had closed behind him, Amon kept his face bereft of emotion, facing the desk with his hands behind his back. Zaizen put a few things into order on his desk with meticulous care before looking up at him, his jaw set sternly and his expression grim.

"I heard from the others that Robin was late for work this morning."

Amon did not reply, simply returning his gaze silently.

Zaizen leaned back in his chair slowly, eyes narrowed. "It seems rather out of character, don't you think?"

Amon shrugged. "Everyone's entitled to a bad day. And she is young."

"Perhaps . . ." Zaizen rubbed a finger against his lips thoughtfully. "Both are reasonable conclusions. But I still have my doubts about her. Headquarters did not send her to us without a reason, and I can't help but wonder if her tardiness means something more than we might suspect."

Zaizen looked at him with another penetrating stare, giving Amon the uncanny impression that he was baiting him. But baiting him to say what--admit what? "Though I agree headquarters likely had ulterior motives in sending Robin," Amon said finally, "I do not believe this incident has anything to do with them. It doesn't have that kind of feel to it.

Nodding pensively, Zaizen continued to look intently at him for several moments before asking a question which instantly raised Amon's blood pressure. "What exactly was going on in that room before I walked in, Amon?"

Amon struggled to keep his hands from turning into fists, trying to keep any obvious sign of his tension from Zaizen's eyes. "Robin looked visibly upset when she came in this morning. I was merely verifying her state was not going to interfere with her work."

"Upset, you say?" Zaizen's eyebrow rose. "And yet you still suspect nothing?" He sighed and turned his chair to look out the window for a moment. "I have concerns, Amon, about your ability to keep this girl's supposed innocence from blinding you to how dangerous she is. You seem to be softening toward her of late."

"Hardly," Amon replied quickly. "I realize exactly how dangerous she is. I simply think she is even more dangerous if I reject her completely. She's tolerated my rejection for a little while, but I can see hints of rebellion in her. She refuses to accept it."

"Then perhaps we have been approaching this from the wrong direction. Have you noticed the way she looks at you when she thinks you're not paying attention, Amon?"

Amon shrugged indifferently. Though he denied it on the surface, he knew all too well what Zaizen was talking about. On multiple occasions, he had caught Robin looking at him with need burning in her green eyes. The need for his acceptance and respect; the need to understand him and to be understood in return; as well as another, darker need which he would never have expected to see in someone so young and childlike. It was the need he felt echoed in himself no matter how hard he fought it.

"I don't think that look has much to do with whatever headquarters has planned for her. In fact, I believe it merely suggests that she has a bit of a crush on you," Zaizen continued. "That makes you her weakness." _As she is mine,_ Amon admitted only to himself, remaining expressionless. "And we can't afford to waste any advantages that come our way." Amon definitely did not like the direction this was going. Zaizen leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. "You need to gain her trust, perhaps by making her believe you trust her as well. Allow yourself, at least on the surface, to get closer to her. Encourage her crush."

Amon's eyes narrowed and outrage found its way into his voice. "You're asking me to seduce her? She's only fifteen."

Zaizen narrowed his own eyes, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Are you saying this is going to be a problem for you?" Again, Amon had the feeling Zaizen was baiting him, laughing inwardly at something he had missed. "Tell me again what almost happened in that room before I showed up, Amon. You can make excuses as much as you want about her youth, naivete or anything else that comes to mind, but your hormones clearly don't seem to have much of a problem with her age."

Spinning away from the Director as his anger turned his blood to flame, Amon attempted to regain control. He looked down through the window into the empty briefing room, trying to focus. This situation felt like a trap, but he couldn't find a way out of it. "If you're so uncertain of my control, why would you possibly want to take the risk of my losing it?"

"I want you to lose control, Amon. Get it out of your system so you can get over it. Rape her if you have to, if only so you can master your desires."

Amon suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He had never completely respected Zaizen--feared him perhaps--but never fully believed in the man's honor. He had learned to understand the fact that his own life was not necessarily of much importance in Zaizen's eyes, and that it could end all too easily on the slightest whim. But the suggestion to rape Robin was almost too much for him to bear. The images the mere suggestion brought to mind made him hurt with the pain and betrayal he could imagine in her vulnerable green eyes. "What about your daughter?" he inquired softly finally, trying a different tactic with Zaizen and making things personal. "How will this seduction make her feel?"

"Touko?" Zaizen scoffed quietly. "Maybe it will make her finally realize you're not worthy of her." Shuddering beneath his calm facade, Amon closed his eyes and tried once again to calm his racing heart. "Never forget you work for me, Amon. I own you."

He heard Zaizen rise from his chair. "I received a summons from headquarters this morning. The strange coincidence of this command with Robin's absence is what sparked my suspicions from the beginning. HQ refused to tell me why they were summoning me, claiming it was something too top secret to discuss over long distance, but I'm sure we can both think of some quick possibilities." Amon actually shifted his gaze to include Zaizen, curiosity sparked despite his anger. "They didn't tell me how long the trip would take, but I'd venture to guess I'll be back sometime early next week. I don't believe they intend to make their move just yet, but just in case, be careful."

"That's why it's so important for me to get closer to Robin right now," Amon concluded without a trace of the emotions still overpowering his senses.

"You know what they say . . . keep your friends close and your enemies closer. She may reveal more than she intends if she believes she can trust you. Hold on to your control a little longer, and you will get the chance to indulge your desires." Amon barely managed to restrain the shiver of disgust twitching in his muscles like an electric current. Zaizen was now standing only a few steps behind him and his voice was pitched low, his tone warning of danger. "I do expect to see some progress when I get back, Amon. Don't disappoint me."

He paused and handed Amon a report. "You can start with this case on a possible witch. The police haven't been able to arrest him for anything, but he's suspected of murder in half a dozen different cases, all involving unusual circumstances. I suggest staking out his apartment building. That will give you a chance to spend some time with her alone."

Amon took the report and pretended to be reading it while his mind was still too much in turmoil to even concentrate. He found he was grateful that Zaizen would be leaving in a few hours, though he wasn't sure how he could possibly satisfy the Director's wishes. There had to be a way out of this situation, a loophole of some kind. But he only had a few days to figure one out, and judging by the glint in Zaizen's eyes, Amon wouldn't like the outcome much if he failed to impress the man.

-----

Hope you enjoyed it! See you next time in Chapter 3: Rain.


	3. Rain

**Author's Note:**

**I'm glad people are enjoying my fic! Thanks for reviewing! **

**Yeah, I'm making Zaizen into a real bastard. But, like I mentioned at the my note for the last chapter, I was intrigued by that scene in episode 14, "Loaded Guns." I just couldn't help wondering why the hell someone who's as much of a bad ass as Amon would put up with Zaizen beating the crap out of him. I figured Zaizen had to be holding something over his head or something. Just what that thing is though . . . well, I can't tell you because I haven't told myself yet. I try to keep major plot points hidden from myself as I write so I have the enjoyment of being surprised along with everyone else when they come out. Do you think I'm insane yet? Lizalou42 understands what I'm talking about. No spoilers! Not even when you're the one writing the story! :)**

**Anyway, on to the chapter!**

Chapter 3

Rain

The sound of the windshield wipers lulled Robin into a state of half-sleep as Amon pulled his Audi to a stop in a shadowed alleyway. Blinking lazily at the reflection of streetlights on the wet roads, Robin rested her head against the window and tried to ignore the silent presence of her partner in the seat next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lean forward in his seat and rest his arms on top of the steering wheel after turning the car off, staring intently at the building they were staking out. He was always completely noiseless, and yet, she had never found a quiet presence to be so distracting as his managed to be. Thunder rumbled quietly, accompanied by a soft flash of lightning in the distance, too far away to be threatening, while the presence in the car felt threatening without a word or a glance in her direction.

In general, Amon was cold and apathetic to everyone, but he reserved a special sort of indifference for her. His comments were often cruel and his demands unrelenting, but it wasn't so much what he said that truly made her feel like a nervous wreck half the time she was around him. It was the things he didn't say--the way he watched her like a hawk in complete silence as if he were analyzing every move she made and just waiting for her to make a mistake. Even now, she noticed him watching her in his peripheral vision, watching her at least as closely as he watched the building across the street. He may have started treating her more like his partner by finally bringing her with him on hunts and paying more attention to her ideas, but he was always guarded around her. He always seemed suspicious of her motives.

"He's on the move," Amon commented suddenly, sitting back and waiting until the figure across the street had gotten in his car and taken off before turning the ignition key.

Robin stole a glance at him as he pulled the car out onto the street. He was completely focused on the car ahead of them as they wove through traffic, his dark grey eyes reflecting the glow of streetlights. A strand of unruly black hair fell forward across his face as they turned a corner and Robin felt an urge to push it away. Realizing she had been staring too long, she turned her eyes back quickly to the road, just in time to catch him shooting a quick glance at her. He had felt her eyes on him. He always did. Every time she indulged her wish to watch him as he always watched her, he caught her in the act.

The car skidded to a halt at the gated entrance to a graveyard, which had just closed behind the witch they were following. Throwing off his seatbelt and jumping out of the car bare moments after turning it off, Amon leapt up on the stone wall surrounding the graveyard. A little slower to act, Robin figured he would be out of sight before she even reached the wall, but she was surprised to find him waiting there for her, his hand reaching down to help her up. He paused only a moment for her to gain her footing on the wall before jumping down, but that moment seemed longer than it necessarily needed to be--longer than she'd thought he would take. Long enough to make her blush at their closeness, and wonder at the way he had been encouraging such closeness today, despite the previous night's event.

Then she was shaking her head to clear it as she watched him running off down the path. Hopping down, she took off behind him, though at a slower tempo; the cobblestones of the path were old and loose in places, and her shoes weren't ideal for traversing such uneven ground quickly. She saw lightning from a grove of olive trees up ahead, though this time it was not coming from the sky. A gunshot fired as she stumbled into a clearing just in time to see Amon fly through the air and come to a sliding stop across the grass into a headstone. Why hadn't he waited for her?

She turned in the direction of his attacker, putting on her glasses. The sight of several men standing protectively around a strange dark haired woman made her hesitate. One of the men was their witch, but she hadn't been expecting any others. Lightning flared in the sky this time, and rain began to fall in a torrent, heavy drops splattering off the gravestones. The group of witches, as she was assuming they all were, finally caught notice of her and one of them sent a streak of lightning zooming toward her. Fire flared against the electricity, dissipating it, but she noted that her flame was weak due to the rain.

They were outnumbered, not expecting a fight against more than one witch and not having a chance to call for backup. She saw a gust of air cutting through the rain in Amon's direction and threw up a wall of fire just in time to protect him, but he still looked a bit dazed. He must have hit his head against the gravestone when he landed. She had started to move toward him without realizing it, but a hand on her shoulder shocked her so badly, she spun around and threw a volley of fire at whoever had touched her without a second thought.

The fire evaporated effortlessly it seemed, and Robin's eyebrows creased as she saw the striking woman who had been standing at the center of the group facing her now from less than an arm's length away. Her black dress was reminiscent of Robin's own clothing, though the woman's garment was much more form fitting and made of rich material which glistened in the lightning. Tossing a long lock of hair over her shoulder, the woman regarded Robin with a strange expression, her blue eyes so pale they looked almost silver.

"You could use some practice, fire-witch," the woman stated with an odd accent. Robin's eyes narrowed. "It's too bad you won't get the chance." Robin was mesmerized in spite of herself as the woman raised her hand and gathered a flame in her splayed fingers with such flourish she looked like a dancer.

Hands grabbed Robin roughly from behind and pulled her to the ground as the inferno blazed by her close enough for her to feel the heat. Snapping out of her trance, she looked up to see Amon half-crouching above her, shielding her from the attack. She did not have time to even worry for his safety, though, before he was on his feet again, pulling her behind him with a painful grip on her arm. He dragged her into the nearby trees, zigzagging out of the way of headstones and taking off in an outright run once they reached the path. She had no choice but to follow unless she wanted to rip her own arm off.

Footsteps echoed on the path behind them and Amon increased his pace. A few steps away from the wall, her shoe caught on a loose cobblestone and she tripped with a grimace, hearing the footfalls coming closer. But Amon did not even break stride. As if he had instinctively known she was going to stumble just then, he had released her arm and reached back, scooping her up in his arms as he vaulted up on the wall, not even steadying himself before jumping down again. Placing her on her feet, he gave her an urgent push with his hand against her lower back before diving for the driver's side door.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Robin fumbled with her own door, seeing the group of male witches bounding up the wall after them. An orbo bullet caught one of them in the chest before Amon slid down into his seat and pulled the door the rest of the way closed. Robin was still panting as he threw the car in reverse and floored the gas pedal just in time to avoid a lightning bolt landing on the spot where their car had been with a bone-jarring clap. Glancing back at the cemetery as they sped away, Robin wondered how the hunters had become the hunted so quickly, and why the witches had even pursued them at all.

Amon did not slow down until they were halfway across the city, glaring at the street ahead of them as if it too had somehow thwarted him. Finally breathing easily again, the memories of what had just happened replayed in Robin's mind. Something about that strange woman had frightened her more than witches usually frightened her--perhaps because the woman had similar powers to her own, yet was so much more adept at using them. Then, as the memories of their flight replayed, she remembered the way Amon had looked out for her and made certain she did not fall behind, even going so far as to pick her up. His actions seemed so far out of character that she had a hard time processing that they had actually happened.

She risked a look at him only to find him staring straight ahead, avoiding seeing her even in his peripheral vision. Perhaps he was as shocked by his actions as she was. Nevertheless, her earlier urge to push the misplaced tendrils of hair out of his face had tripled in intensity due to the fact they were now wet and dripping against his skin, causing drops to slide down his cheeks in tiny rivulets. He did not turn to look at her though she knew he had noticed her gaze. His expressionless countenance was set in stone with a steely determination, and Robin shivered as she looked away.

Thunder rumbled as she felt the car come to a stop and looked up to see her apartment building. Surprised it was not Raven's Flat, she looked at him in curiosity.

"Your Vespa's still in the shop," he answered her unspoken question coldly without moving from his position, "and it's raining. You weren't walking home." Realizing he was doing her a favor despite his harsh way of relating it to her, she thanked him quietly, her voice sounding timid. "I'll pick you up for work in the morning," he added matter of factly, still staring straight ahead, and she knew it was her cue to leave.

She stepped out of the car and began trudging through the pouring rain, tamping down on the desire to look back, though she might have been interested by the expression on Amon's face as he waited for her to enter the building before driving off.

-----

Short, I know, but I have more written. Just have to get it ready to upload! 


	4. Sponsored by Playstation

**More quirkiness on the way. I apologize for all the video game references for those who might not recognize them. Just so you know, it's not all that important that you get the references. They're just fun and random.**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: I wrote this before I ever read your story which features a certain character named Squall. I never got around to writing a review of your story to tell you about my similarity in thought process, but you might get a laugh out of this chapter. Squally-boy kicks ass.**

Chapter 4

Sponsored by Playstation

Yawning sleepily, Sakaki sat down in the briefing room with a sigh, propping his chin up on his palm as he leaned over the table. It was too early in the morning for a meeting. He would probably drift off to sleep before Michael even started speaking, and he didn't relish the glare such an act would earn him from Amon. Karasuma sat down next to him, and he felt his partner glance at him with an annoyed expression.

"Late night again, Sakaki?" she inquired softly.

Nodding wordlessly, he rubbed the raw fingers of the hand resting on his lap against each other. He was haunted by the image of Medusa's head flying across the screen, eyes burning the ground around his character as he punched the "x" button frantically, trying to jump out of the way before being petrified. He clenched his fist. Maybe he should have tried to defeat the vampire in the Dark Palace of Waterfalls first. He frowned as Amon entered the room, as aloof and grim as usual. As Sakaki looked at the hunter, he imagined Joachim Armster, laughing wickedly as he floated around the room with knives spinning around him as protection. Yes, he definitely should have defeated the vampire first. Amon noticed his gaze and glanced at him askance, completely oblivious to Sakaki's mental comparison between him and a vampire in a video game.

Smiling to himself as Amon directed Michael to start the meeting, Sakaki watched the images of various graveyards around the city without interest, imagining Amon's growl of frustration as he broke the protection spheres and attacked him with his whip repeatedly. Then it occurred to Sakaki that the mental image seemed a little wrong somehow. Perhaps it wasn't wise to attempt to relate people he knew to characters in Castlevania: Lament of Innocence. Thinking about Leon Belmont, he remembered the dark haired, loner character from Kingdom Hearts. Blushing with embarrassment though he knew no one could hear his thoughts, he assured himself there was nothing disgraceful about playing Kingdom Hearts. It didn't make him any less of a man.

Anyway . . . thinking of that character, also named Leon though he was really a character from Final Fantasy VIII named Squall, Sakaki thought he'd found a more suitable image for Amon. Leon had been pretty frickin' cold to Sora and had actually knocked him out with his sword when he first met him. Remembering all the heartless comments Amon had made toward him in the past, Sakaki recalled the fight from the Coliseum in Kingdom Hearts, replacing Leon/Squall with Amon. He'd kicked Squall's ass during the fight despite the character's totally unfair use of a ten-foot long sword. Grinning, he thought, _Is he compensating for something, perhaps?_

"Sakaki!" Amon's voice startled him out of his reverie.

Glancing around the room, Sakaki realized from the look on his companions' faces that Amon had probably said his name more than once. "Huh?"

"Were you listening to the briefing at all?" Amon inquired, disapproval darkening his features.

"Of course.

Diverting Amon's anger, and giving Sakaki some of the information he had missed though the effort obviously irritated her, Karasuma asked him, "Do you have any ideas about why witches would be working together like the ones who attacked Robin and Amon in the cemetery?"

Cemetery. Images of zombies crawling out of the ground moaning incoherently popped into Sakaki's mind. Maybe if he used the lighter he found under the abandoned car in the courtyard a few screens back he could set that pile of flammable objects on fire and escape through the door he hadn't opened yet. Creeeaaak. The door opened and--

Shaking his head, Sakaki replied, "Uh . . . no. Not really." He desperately needed to put a stop to these late night video game obsessions. Next he would be imagining Doujima dressed up as princess Zelda teaching him how to play songs on an ocarina. Or he would walk out into the other room to see Chief Kosaka and Hattori dressed up in red and green respectively and running around the office jumping on things and collecting coins. He imagined Kosaka crying, "It's a-me! Mario!"

" . . . will need to keep our eyes open for any other signs of witches organizing," Amon was saying when Sakaki came back from his daydream with a start as Karasuma nudged him with her elbow. "In the meantime, Michael, keep searching for information about local cemeteries. It may be nothing, but it's the strongest lead we have.

As the meeting dispersed, Sakaki turned to meet Karasuma's puzzled gaze. "Who's Lara Croft?" she asked in suspicion, and he realized she must have inadvertently scryed him when she touched his arm.

Blushing furiously, he rose to his feet quickly. "No one . . ." He headed for the door in a rush, almost running into Amon.

"Sakaki," Amon stopped him tersely, looking down at him through the strands of hair shadowing his face. "I want to investigate that cemetery from last night. You're coming with me.

Leaving him no chance for discussion, Amon turned and headed for the door. Sighing in frustration at his luck, Sakaki scratched the back of his neck, watching the dark hunter walk away. He noticed he wasn't the only one watching as Robin paused at the doorway next to him. Glancing at her, he saw the hurt expression in her eyes and realized Amon was leaving her behind again.

"You're not missing out on anything," Sakaki found himself muttering to her, drawing her surprised gaze. He found himself suddenly reminded of Yuna from Final Fantasy X, she was so timid and quiet. "Besides, Seifer kicked his ass on several occasions, and if he'd ever run into Auron, he would have been dead meat." His words clearly did not compute in her mind and he realized with a start what he had said. "Um . . . never mind." Blushing again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and followed after Amon.

He heard Karasuma make a soft comment to Robin behind him, "I swear, I'm about ready to find his apartment and confiscate all his video games if this is what they do to him.

-----

"So what are we looking for, anyway?" Sakaki asked, scratching his head and turning around in a lazy circle. He barely caught himself a moment before tripping over a headstone, but almost fell over anyway because of his precarious balance.

"Anything out of the ordinary," Amon replied curtly. Repressing his annoyance with his young companion not entirely successfully, he searched the area where the witches had been gathered the night before. He spotted something out of the corner of his eye, and noticed the overgrown remains of a path leading into the trees. Without even motioning Sakaki to follow, he pushed a few branches aside and began tracing the path left behind by the scattered bone-white stones half buried in the earth. Soon he found himself standing in a small circular clearing surrounded by thick foliage. This area had clearly been occupied recently since most of the overgrowth had been cleared. Beyond that though, he had very little doubt that this was what he was searching for when he noticed the circle seared into the ground at the center of the area. An Ogham wheel.

He heard Sakaki scrambling through the brush behind him as he knelt down next to the circle to examine it more closely. Suddenly he found himself regretting the absence of his partner, and wished he had not dismissed her so coldly this morning. She knew far more about these kinds of things than he did, and she would have likely been able to interpret what he saw more easily. Frowning at the circle, he cursed his own fear for leading him to push her away again. Fear of what she was. Fear of letting himself get too close. Fear of losing control. Fear of Zaizen and his orders. Zaizen had no idea what a difficult assignment he had set for him.

"That looks out of the ordinary," Sakaki commented dryly when he had finally disentangled himself from the brush.

"Take pictures of it from several different angles," Amon ordered, putting a halt to his thoughts about Robin. "But don't walk on it of even touch it." He heard Sakaki sigh before pulling out the camera they had brought with them and beginning to take snapshots.

Continuing to explore the area, Amon paused at another burnt spot on the ground. Waving Sakaki over, he pointed at the small charred artifact at the center of the spot. "Take a picture of this too." He swept his gaze over the area again quickly. "There seem to be several spots like this at intervals around the entire circle. Document them all." Sakaki scowled at him as he moved off to do as he was told, but Amon ignored his anger, picking up the artifact with a pair of tweezers and dropping it into a plastic bag.

When he felt confidant they had scoured the area thoroughly, Amon led Sakaki back towards the car, failing to notice the way the circle illuminated briefly at their passing. He also failed to notice the pair of blue eyes watching beneath scattered strands of silver hair, watching them as they left with a curious expression.

-----

Another short chapter, I know. But I hope you enjoyed it! Had to throw in a little plot at the end. I don't know much about witch craft, so I was kinda wingin' it.


	5. What Not to Wear

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all for your reviews! I'm glad to hear people are enjoying my story! That said, feel free to throw out any suggestions you have too. **

To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Thanks for the info. I didn't realize Sora could beat Leon, though I never really tried. Not sure what you meant about his last name--I was just referring to the fact that Yuffie actually does call Leon by the name "Squall" at one point in KH as I recall. As for the ten foot sword thing--though Cloud's sword is quite substantial--I was talking about when Squall's gunblade starts glowing and gets frickin' huge during the fight in the Coliseum. It always cracked me up. Reminds me of a Zelda quote (from A Link to the Past, I believe). It goes something like this, "Your sword has grown and it is throbbing with power in your hands."Way to wrong up a weapon upgrade, huh? Anyway, the connection between Robin and Yuna just popped into my head out of nowhere. Final Fantasy X is a fun game, but if you get into playing the minigames, you'll understand the reference Sakaki made to them in chapter 2 when he's looking at the walkthrough Michael gave him. Damn butterflies . . . Unfortunately, Tidus kind of got on my nerves most of the time through the game, but Auron is awesome--partly because I really like his voice. I still haven't finished FFX-2, mostly because I started too many games all at the same time and keep getting distracted by other things . . . I played the Final Fantasy games out of order myself, but the good thing about the series is that it doesn't really matter what order you play them in since the stories don't really relate.

**Anyway, on to the chapter! Randomness full speed ahead.**

Chapter 5

What Not to Wear

Robin sighed softly as she gazed out the window of Doujima's car, wondering why she had gone along with Doujima's random suggestion in the first place. She had never been one to shirk her responsibilities, and she certainly wasn't a big fan of shopping, and yet Doujima's appeal just happened to hit her at one of those moments of inner rebellion which allows a person to do something completely out of character.

She saw Doujima looking at her out of the corner of her eyes. "You're not having regrets, are you, Robin?"

Robin made a noncommittal noise in response, but did not speak.

She could see Doujima pouting out of the corner of her eye. "Well you really shouldn't have any, you know. Amon was practically asking for it when he left you behind."

"Karasuma's not taking the rest of the day off to go shopping because her partner's busy," Robin pointed out quietly.

"Yeah, but Karasuma's a workaholic, and her partner's just Sakaki anyway . . . Rolling down her window to feel the warming spring air, Doujima grinned. "I just _couldn't _stay cooped up in there all day. And I'm so bored with shopping alone." She glanced at Robin again and saw her guilt-ridden expression. Sighing, she reached for the stereo and popped in a cd. The upbeat, jazzy melody that came blaring out of the speakers startled Robin for a moment, but she found a smile creeping across her face in spite of herself. It was simply too cheerful of a song to frown at. Half of the words were in English, and between her still shaky understanding of Japanese and her equally shaky understanding of English, she couldn't make out a whole lot. The refrain was hard to miss though, and she found herself blushing furiously as Doujima began singing along, full voice, "Strawberry sex! What a wonderful world!"

Attempting to distract herself by looking out the window, Robin wondered aloud as the song ended, "Do you think they knew what we were planning to do when you said you were giving me a ride home because I wasn't feeling well?"

Shrugging, Doujima pulled off on an exit ramp, turning toward the shopping mall in the distance. "Well, even if they did, I'm already exempt, and you're practically little miss perfect as far as attendance goes. They can't say much."

"I'm sure Amon could," Robin murmured, feeling anger again at his constant flip-flopping attitude toward her. "And I did come in late yesterday . . ."

"For the first time ever! And, as far as Amon goes, he'll forget all about it when he sees you in the clothes I'm going to pick out for you!"

Robin could only assume her mastery of the Japanese language must be very poor indeed since she was utterly unable to translate Doujima's statement so that it made sense. "Um . . . I don't think I understand . . ."

Doujima smiled as she pulled into a parking spot. "How about we back up a few steps? I know you like Amon. It's written all over your face."

Robin froze, feeling an almost painful heat burning across her cheeks. "What?!"

"Oh, Robin, you don't have to deny it. Don't worry, none of those losers back at the office have a clue." She waved her hand dismissively. "But I'm sympathetic to your plight--I have a bit of a weakness for tragic love stories."

"Tragic?" Robin voice cracked slightly.

"Well, you know, Amon is such a lot of work when it comes to getting him out of his shell."

"Don't you mean, it's impossible for Amon to ever care for me?" Robin asked quietly, thinking of Touko. "That's why it would be Ôtragic' for me to even consider him in that way." She was saying the last statement to herself as much as she was to Doujima.

Doujima glanced at her with a sad expression before replying as she reached for the door handle, "You're wrong. He may not be able to admit it even to himself yet, but I can tell he has a thing for you too. But he won't be able to resist you when I'm done with your makeover."

"Doujima . . ." Robin began slowly, worried about hurting the girl's feelings, "I don't want a makeover."

"Sure you do! You just don't know it yet!" Doujima grinned as she gathered up her purse and hopped out of the car. "Come on!

Robin followed with reluctance so intense it was almost debilitating. _What have I gotten myself into? _

-----

The office was mostly empty when Sakaki and Amon returned to it, and Amon frowned at the empty desks broodingly. He knew Zaizen had already left on his trip, a relief to Amon's mind, but he had no idea where the three missing hunters had gone. "Michael, where is everyone?" he demanded quietly.

Pulling one earphone out, Michael looked up at him. "Karasuma's following up on a lead I just discovered about a location we think may have some connection to those witches."

"And Robin and Doujima?" Amon prompted him when Michael paused.

"Robin wasn't feeling well . . ." Michael trailed off, his gaze dropping to his keyboard. "So Doujima offered to give her a ride home."

A crease formed between Amon's brows. "Robin's sick?" Now that he thought about it, he remembered now how Robin had been complaining of illness to Michael a couple days ago, and how she had been sneezing quite a lot lately. She had also sounded quite congested this morning, and he couldn't help but wonder if their hunt out in the cold and rain had only done more damage to her condition.

Michael merely shrugged in response to his question, an odd reaction in Amon's opinion.

"When did they leave?" Sakaki asked, collapsing into his chair. "Let me guess, Doujima conveniently took the rest of the afternoon off."

"Seems that way," Michael agreed.

Amon glanced down at the evidence they had gathered as he pulled it out of his pocket, realizing he still couldn't ask Robin her opinion. Instead, he handed it to Michael. "I need you to research some things for me, Michael."

As he explained what they had discovered in the graveyard, Amon's mind kept wandering to the young craft user as he mentally kicked himself for not noticing her illness sooner. He didn't make a habit of catering to others simply because they were in a bad mood or feeling under the weather, yet such circumstances were important to be aware of when one was in charge of a situation. His forced callousness was starting to make him less observant, and failing to perceive a situation accurately could be very dangerous indeed when they were out on a hunt. He told himself that these logical reasons were the cause of his concern, though he knew in his heart that he was more deeply affected by the way he had managed to ignore Robin so efficiently when he normally had a more difficult time doing so.

Thinking about Robin at home sick brought him to thoughts of Touko, and he remembered with a start that he had made plans with her early in the week for tonight. Cringing inwardly, he recalled she had manipulated him into agreeing to go with her to some party a friend of a friend of hers was throwing. From her description, it was some huge bash a group of siblings threw every year to celebrate the beginning of spring, and since the siblings were all different ages, it drew quite a large and varied crowd. Touko claimed it would be a great way to meet new people, one of her favorite pastimes. It sounded like several hours of hell to him, but he had already agreed to it, and there was no getting out of it now.

"Amon? Are you okay?"

Michael's voice brought him back to reality and he shook himself to clear his mind. "Sorry . . . where was I?"

"You were describing the intervals between these things," Michael said slowly, looking at him uncertainly, holding the artifact Amon had found in the cemetery. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Michael, I'm fine," Amon replied a little impatiently. He was ready for this day to be over already.

-----

When they were finally finished with the most exciting shopping spree Doujima had gone on in quite some time, the two of them were weighted down with more bags overflowing with clothing than could be counted. Well, at least more than Doujima could count without complete boredom shutting her brain down as a self-protection mechanism. Math had never been her favorite subject. After several trips, they finally managed to get all their purchases through the narrow door of Robin's apartment--funny how it didn't seem that narrow upon first appearance, and yet managed to hinder every attempt to bring Robin's new wardrobe safely inside.

Exhausted from the wearying excursion, Robin collapsed on the couch among the bags after they had finished the last trip. Doujima looked at her with pity. She didn't think the girl had ever gone shopping for clothes before, judging by the incredibly limited selection of clothing in her nearly empty closet. Though it had been a struggle, Doujima had managed to browbeat Robin into trying on clothes even when they didn't seem acceptable to her skewed understanding of appropriate attire. Robin had not given in to all of Doujima's suggestions, but had managed to develop her own style by finding a balance between Doujima's tastes and her own--if Robin's "tastes" could be called by such a name. They seemed to be more assumptions and habit than anything. Still, Doujima felt the outing had been a success overall, and was pleased with the amount of stylish outfits she had finally managed to convince her na•ve companion to buy.

Satisfied though fatigued as well, Doujima dropped down into the chair across from Robin, closing her eyes with a smile.

Footsteps walking down the hall of the apartment drew Doujima's attention and she opened her eyes again lazily to see Robin's roommate standing at the intersection of the living room and kitchen with an amused expression. She looked all ready to go out, dressed up in a shimmery shirt tight enough to show off her curves and a skirt short enough to show off her long legs. Doujima frowned. It wasn't that she really disliked Touko . . . as much as she really didn't like her very much--which was in fact the same thing twice. She might as well admit it: the willowy, snooty platinum blond really irritated her. And she didn't like the way she always treated Robin with such a condescending attitude. Not that Doujima had seen her many times--this was only the second--but she tended to have intense reactions to people, for better or for worse.

"Touko," Robin asked, her tone cautious when she saw her standing there. "Did you have a good day at work?"

"Not as good as your day, it would appear. What's in all the bags?" Touko peeked over one, trying to see the inner contents, but Doujima snatched it away.

"It's a secret," Doujima stated.

"Is it now?" Touko commented with that expression of mystery mixed with seduction, which Doujima was sure worked quite well with men, but did absolutely nothing for her.

"Doujima took me shopping," Robin explained benignly, never one to intentionally leave someone else out, though she seemed to be looking at Touko with a somewhat worried expression as if she were afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"Really?" Touko smirked, looking back and forth between the two of them. "And are you and your little friend going to have a sleepover tonight and stay up late painting each other's toenails and playing dress up?" she asked rather acidly, throwing Doujima a defiant look. Clearly, she had noticed Doujima's dislike.

Doujima's eyes narrowed. She ignored the way Robin had actually perked up at Touko's comment, utterly ignorant of the insult as she instead thought Touko was giving her important knowledge about how to act like a normal teenager. Then a notion popped into Doujima's mind. Perhaps giving Robin a normal teenage experience wouldn't be such a bad idea. She remembered the party one of her friends had told her about that was going on tonight. "Actually," she said finally. "Robin and I are going to a party tonight." Touko looked taken aback, but hardly more so than Robin. Giving Robin a "just play along" glance, she returned her attention to Touko and smiled sweetly, "Though we might still paint our toenails first."

"Isn't Robin a bit young to be going to a party?" Touko asked smoothly.

"I started going to parties at thirteen," Doujima answered just as smoothly. "I think she can handle it."

"Yes, but this is Robin we're talking about."

"Do you have a point to make?"

Touko paused when she saw the hurt in Robin's eyes. "No, of course not. You two have fun. I'm going to a party tonight as well."

"Isn't it a little early to be going out?" Doujima asked, her voice so sweet she almost sent herself into sugar shock. "Or maybe at your age you have worry about going out early enough so you can be in bed on time."

Touko glared at her. "Actually, I'm going out to dinner first. But I do have a boyfriend after all. Maybe someday you'll know what that's like. Anyway, I should be back in the morning, Robin." She smiled tightly. "Have a good time at the party and be careful. It's dangerous out there without a male escort anymore . . ." Glancing at her watch, she added, "I'd better hurry. Amon's probably already waiting for me." Touko looked at Robin briefly and the expression on both of their faces made it clear to Doujima that she was missing something, but she wasn't really too worried about that fact since she was more distracted by the information Touko had just let drop.

"Hold the phone!" Doujima gasped, squinting at Touko. "Did you say, Amon? As in, Amon, Amon? As in, here one day, gone tomorrow, Amon? As in, use em up as needed and throw them away, Amon?"

Touko smiled though her eyes were all thunder and lightning. "I said Amon, as in the Amon you work with, but you have some interesting euphemisms for him. I'll be sure to share them with him tonight." She glanced at Robin again before quickly turning on her heel and heading for the door. "Goodnight."

The door closed, and Doujima could no longer hold back the riotous laughter filling her lungs. She could feel the solemn weight of Robin's gaze watching her, but it took several minutes before she was able to get herself under control. Gasping for air and rolling on the floor among the overflowing bags, Doujima finally met the gravity of Robin's eyes, but was still unable to speak for several long moments.

"What was that all about?" Robin asked, finally tired of waiting.

"Sorry, Robin," Doujima apologized. "I know you get along with your roommate, but I think she's kind of a spoiled brat." Robin's look was transparently asking, "and you're not?" Doujima shrugged. "I suppose I am too. Maybe that's why it annoys me so much. But hey, I guess it takes one to know one. Still . . . I can't believe she's dating Amon!" Laughter bubbled out of her mouth once again.

"Really?" Robin asked dryly. "I figured you already knew. Yet another source of tragedy." She pulled her knees up in front of her and curled up on the couch. "Are we really going to a party?" She made a face.

Determined, Doujima replied firmly, "Yes! Just to spite her!"

Robin smiled sadly. "I don't want to spite Touko."

"But look at how she was gloating about dating Amon!"

"Only because you insulted her. She never even mentioned their relationship to me. I just saw them walking together in the park one day, and then . . ." Color rose to Robin's pale cheeks and she looked away quickly.

"And then?" Doujima goaded, sensing prime gossip material and going after it like a predator on the hunt.

"Nothing." Robin's eyes were wide, and she actually looked frightened.

"You're not getting away with that, Robin."

"Really, it's nothing important . . . I just . . . never mind."

Eyebrow twitching, Doujima persisted. "Robin. Just tell me! I promise I won't tell anyone else. I swear I won't!"

Sighing in exasperation, Robin stated slowly, as if every word were an effort. "I came home early the other night when I'd told Touko I'd be out late, and . . ." She trailed off, her cheeks bright red.

Doujima's jaw dropped so fast she thought it would pop, mental images painting themselves before her eyes in vivid color. "They were . . . here? And you . . ." Overwhelmed, she collapsed back on the floor. Then, after a few moments of shock, she asked curiously. "Was Amon--I mean, was he fully clothed . . . ?" A pillow from the couch hit her soundly on the head. "What?! It's a valid question! I was just . . . curious."

"Doujima," Robin began slowly, her expression very serious, "are you sure _you_ don't have a crush on Amon?"

"Me? No way. He's _so_ not my type." She rolled over onto her stomach and propped her head up on her hands. "But he is pretty to look at. Anyway, I still think there's hope for you two, even considering your roommate's involvement."

Robin looked annoyed with Doujima's insistence. "Amon doesn't like me, Doujima. He can barely tolerate my existence most of the time. And no change of outfit or hairstyle is going to make me ten years older anyway."

"Age? Is that it?" Doujima asked incredulously. "Age isn't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. Besides you act like you're forty half the time, and maturity can make up the difference."

"It's okay if you give up hope, Doujima. I never let myself have any in the first place."

Feeling a big time pout coming on, Doujima crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her lower lip out. Robin wasn't working very hard to get herself out of her funk. In fact, she was fighting all the way. Knowing that her roommate was going out--and probably staying in as well by the sounds of it--with Amon certainly did not help her any. But, why couldn't she see that Amon didn't want Touko? Doujima felt no differently about the situation than she had before she knew Amon had a girlfriend. Touko was just filler for him. Someone to give him enough release for him to continue keeping his emotions under lock and key the rest of the time. The hunger in his eyes when he looked at Robin was not something he felt he could justify satisfying, so he settled for a replacement. How was it Doujima could understand the dark hunter so well, you ask? The same way she understood everyone else around her though she pretended to be an oblivious ditz. It was her power--to understand people's hearts. Not that she would ever share that information with her fellow hunters.

Suddenly, in the middle of her intense sulk, Doujima's stomach growled loudly, completely ruining the effect, and she was forced to return to reality. "Hmm . . . I think we should order in pizza. What do you think?"

Robin sat up straighter on the couch. "Sounds like fun."

"Afterwards we can get ready for the party."

Robin's face fell again. "Doujima . . ."

Determined once again, Doujima persevered. "No! You are not going to stay home and feel sorry for yourself. We are going to go out and have fun, and the world is going to see how much fun Robin Sena can be!"

Robin's expression was doubtful. "Doujima, why do you care so much all of a sudden?"

"Well," Doujima answered thoughtfully. "I'm not really sure. I guess . . . I'd just never spent this much time around you outside work before." And it was causing her to turn into a big sister. What was it about Robin that made her want to protect her? Maybe it was the fact that Robin never bothered to defend herself. She took what the world dealt her without complaint, but was so quick to defend others even if they had hurt her in the past. Doujima knew that Robin would give her life for Amon's in a heartbeat, or for Doujima's own life, or for any of their companions, or for a stranger on the street. Her generosity and selflessness had won Doujima's admiration, and Doujima supposed even she couldn't help but want to do whatever she could to at least give some of it back.

"If you don't want to go to the party," she gave in finally, "you don't have to. I just think it would do you good to get out."

Robin paused, considering the expression of utter disappointment on Doujima's face, and then nodded. "I'll go." Her tone wasn't exactly excitement, more surrender, and Doujima realized Robin was being unselfish again and sacrificing for her. Robin really didn't want to go to the party, but Doujima was confidant she would get something good out of it in the end anyway. And then the sacrifice wouldn't really be a sacrifice at all.

----------

**I hope all you Touko haters out there enjoyed the last scene. I'll try to get the next chapter ready to upload today or tomorrow: Chapter 6 Speak of the Devil. **


	6. Speak of the Devil

**Author's Note:**

**As promised, here's chapter 6! Now, finally, we get to the point where this story actually becomes a crossover. It's still mostly WHR though, so don't worry. That's why it's listed in the WHR stories and not the Devil May Cry fics.**

**To Jayde Katt: Just as a warning, things aren't going to be getting any better for Touko in my story for awhile. If it makes you feel any better, it's not because I really have anything against her character. Her condescending attitude irritated me a bit in the series, but I never hated her. Somehow, I just ended up writing her kind of evil like I'm writing her father. But I tend to like evil characters myself (especially ones who can be sympathized with), so it's kind of a compliment from me to turn her into a bit of a bad guy. Sakaki will have more delusions in the future though, so I hope you'll keep reading! :)**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Doujima's one of my favorite characters too. She had me fooled for the most part through most of the series, though I always had my suspicions about her. I hope the party lives up to your expectations!******

Chapter 6

Speak of the Devil

**_Beatrice. Hear my voice, and listen._**

The silver flame leapt higher and the one known as Beatrice threw her dark hair back over her shoulders, feeling the specter of her master slipping into her mind like a shadow across water. _I am here, my lord. Tell me, what am I to do now? They wish to hunt me, and I still have not gathered my entire coven_.

**_Our window of opportunity is coming. You must be patient, my servant,_**the dark lord replied, his voice as deep as the cracks of a volcano.** _These hunters . . . among them is one you need to find. She is the key to completing the circle. Without the strength of her power, the door may remain closed no matter how many witches you gather._******

The demon lord sent an image into her mind. _The fire witch?!_ She exclaimed in surprise. _Why, she's nothing more than a child, and her powers--_

**_Are greater than you know. She has not fully realized them yet, but we could take advantage of them, bring them to their full potential_****. **

_Then I must find her. _

**_Yes, but there is a danger. _**

_The demon hunter? He is always lurking in my shadow. He still does not know who or what I am, but if he continues to be so persistent, he will eventually find out. The knowledge will make him even more dedicated to stopping us._

**_What did you expect from him? He too is a child of Sparda, the one demon who dared defy his heritage. But he is not the danger I speak of. This girl has dangers of her own. She is surrounded by protectors. They flock to her. But there is one in particular who could put a stop to our plans. He alone holds the key to her heart--his voice alone could call her back from the edge of the abyss. Until he is out of the way, we cannot hope to hold her._**__

_Shall we find him, and kill him?_

**_I fear his death would put her in too much turmoil for her to be of any use to us. But we must keep him from interfering. He is not currently weak-minded enough to be manipulated, but perhaps someone close to him is. There is a woman who is filled with bitterness and jealousy. We could use her. _**

_Will she be there? At the gathering?_

**_Yes._** An image of the woman she was to find appeared in her mind; long blond hair, lithe figure, and sensual smile. **_Find her, and exert your influence over her as well as the others. Be wary though. The demon hunter may be there as well._**

-----

Robin felt lost. The music was too loud; the house was too crowded and stifling; the people were too drunk; and she didn't know how to move in the short skirt she was wearing, let alone the ruffled top which dipped just a little too low for her comfort in the front. It was nothing so scandalous as what the girls around her were wearing, yet she couldn't help but feel self-conscious and naked even if her skirt was a good five inches longer and her collar at least three inches higher. Her arms were bare though and her hair flowed freely over her shoulders except for the handful of strands which Doujima had braided into a crown around her head. Already she was annoyed by the loose hair, but what truly unnerved her was when she happened to catch her reflection in a mirror and actually thought she was looking through a window for the little resemblance she saw there.

She had never worn makeup before in her life, but Doujima had taught her how to accent her eyes with eye shadow and give her cheeks color with blush. Yet, even with the makeup she looked as pale as a ghost. Perhaps it was because she felt so uncomfortable in this crowd. She wasn't worried about being assaulted by anyone with her craft to protect her; the inebriated males who attempted to force their attention on her found themselves feeling rather unpleasantly hot all of a sudden and found themselves stepping outside to cool off. Rather, she was simply painfully aware of how little she fit in with others. Living such a sheltered life had done irreparable damage to her social skills. Clutching her amulet, which she had refused to take off despite the makeover, she wandered through the crowd again, looking for Doujima.

"Hey, green-eyed lady," a man not far from her slurred, "how about you and I take a trip upstairs?" He slid his hand around her waist and Robin almost gagged at the alcohol on his breath as he leaned toward her.

"Why bother with the stairs?" an unfamiliar, very masculine voice commented. "You can trip just as easily down here." The sound of a punch landing in the man's kidney warned Robin to step out of the way just in time before he stumbled off to the nearest window and emptied the contents of his stomach in the grass below.

She looked back to see a tall man with strikingly silver hair and pale blue eyes smirking down at her. He wore black leather and a crimson jacket, and she thought she caught the glint of a gun--perhaps two--inside his coat. Looking at him warily, she decided he seemed at least as out of place at this party as she did, though he did have a beer in his hand. "Sorry about that, babe," he commented, gesturing to the man at the window. "He seemed like bad news."

"Thank you," she replied quietly, wondering if he could hear her over the stereo blasting in the other room.

He nodded. "No problem." He seemed about to walk away when he paused and studied her more closely, the intensity of his gaze reminding her strangely of Amon's when he was at his most enigmatic. Then, his eyebrow quirking at something he apparently discovered, he glanced around cautiously before stepping a little closer to her. Though she should have been nervous, for he was clearly dangerous, she did not back away. "You wouldn't happen to know if there's a witch here tonight, would you?" His voice had dropped in volume and seemed almost intimate in its roughness.

Robin's eyes widened as she repeated, "A witch?"

"Yeah. I've been chasing one for a while now. She has a penchant for manipulating people and starting fires. Sold her soul to the devil in return for her powers, and now she's trying to open a gate to the underworld." He paused, shaking his head. "Just like every other wacko out there . . . I mean it's not as if it's the vacation spot of the season, but they all want to open the door just the same."

Robin's jaw fell slack as she contemplated this strange man and his even stranger comments. Her mind told her to be careful of a trap, but her gut told her she could trust this man she barely knew. "Why do you think I could help you?"

He touched the pendent hanging around her neck lightly. "I recognized that. I know Father Juliano. He hired me once to help hunt down a demon."

"A demon?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "It's kind of what I do. Anyway, do you know anything about that witch I'm looking for?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Ah. Well, it was worth a shot." He saluted her with his beer. "Thanks for your time."

Uncertain what prompted her to stop him though she had a feeling it had something to do with his connection to Fr. Juliano and her sense of homesickness, she reached out and placed a hand gently on his arm. "I still might be able to help," she said uncertainly, a little unnerved by his intense gaze though she should have been used to such gazes by now. "I have some unusual sources of information."

"Do you now? Hmm . . . might come in handy." He pulled out a business card which he slipped into her hand as he gently removed it from his arm. "The name's Dante."

"Robin," she replied, glancing down at the card. It read _Devil Never Cry_ and named Dante as a demon hunter. She had never heard of such a thing.

"So you're the Robin he talked so much about."

She looked up suddenly, seeing the warmth in his eyes. "Juliano?"

"Yeah. I guess it was quite the stroke of luck I wandered in here. My instincts are rarely wrong and they were screaming at me to check this place out. Not what I expected, but hey, who can complain about free beer?"

_Robin!_" The sound of Doujima's obviously intoxicated voice made Robin cringe. Her friend was stumbling across the room, using person after person as support to make her way to Robin, the drink in her hand sloshing all over the floor and the people around her as she went. Finally, when she was close enough to lean against the wall next to Robin she stopped and glared at her coyly. "Forget Amon--who the hell is _this _fine specimen? And how the hell do you get all the _hot men?!_ She gestured sloppily at Dante who was merely gazing back at her with a raised eyebrow and a barely repressed grin. "All I ever get is stupid-ass Sakaki," she muttered, then realizing what she had just said, her eyes widened and she covered her mouth. "I'm glad I didn't say that out loud. He would be so pissed if I let that one get out," she mumbled.

Robin glanced at Dante who was looking back at her with amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Um, Doujima, I think it's time to go home now." Robin snatched what remained of the girl's drink out of her hand and poured it out the window.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Doujima cried suddenly with a half-laugh, half-snort. She poked at Robin. "You won't _believe_who I ran into here.

"Who?" Robin asked without interest, simply keeping Doujima distracted as she pulled her arm over her shoulder to keep her upright.

Doujima however somehow managed to slip out of her grasp, still laughing. _Amon!_ Isn't that a crackup? Amon, and your stupid roommate hanging out at a party like this!" She dissolved into another fit of laughter.

Robin attempted to catch her as she lost her balance and crumpled toward the floor, but Dante intervened, scooping Doujima up and tossing her over his shoulder. "It looks like you might need some assistance," he commented dryly to Robin.

"My plan worked!" Doujima squealed, wriggling in Dante's grip. "Mmm, what's this?" She pulled out a gun from underneath Dante's coat, looking at it quizzically as if she couldn't identify it.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Dante ordered gruffly, snatching the weapon out of her hand and tucking it back into its holster. "Time to split," he added to Robin.

Nodding, Robin followed him as he led the way to the door, Doujima still mumbling nonsensically. She wasn't sure if Doujima had been hallucinating or if she really had seen Amon, but she was certain she did not want to find out. Regardless, she was grateful for running into Dante since she had no idea how she would have gotten Doujima home otherwise. The party no longer seemed so intimidating now that she knew she was leaving it, and Robin said a prayer of thanks for making it through the night without more trouble than she had--especially after the way bad luck had been following her like the plague the last few days.

She was close enough to the door to feel the chill air from outside when she almost ran into someone--a tall, darkly dressed someone. She forgot to breathe for a moment as she looked up slowly to find Amon's slate eyes glowering down at her. It seemed she had spoken too soon, and just in time for more bad luck to catch up to her. "Amon," she breathed, hearing her heart pounding in her ears. She wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock, but she didn't see any convenient rocks in sight. Unless you counted the rock wall standing in front of her which would offer absolutely no solace at all.

"Robin. I thought I saw you in the crowd, but I had all but convinced myself I was mistaken. I barely recognized you. His voice was as frigid as the Antarctic, but his gaze burned as he paused and glanced down at her attire, swallowing before continuing. He sounded almost angry as he continued, "Michael said you were sick. What are you doing here?

"Robin?!" came the sound of Touko's voice as she floated into the room to stand next to Amon, snaking her arm around his protectively. The glint in Touko's eyes as she pulled Amon closer struck a hint of fear into Robin, though she had no idea why. She supposed it was jealousy, though she couldn't help but relate the expression on Touko's face to the look in a boa constrictor's eyes as it wraps itself around its prey. "That girl said you were going to a party, but I didn't think--"

Amon's eyes glanced at Touko cuttingly. "You knew about this idiocy?"

"Oh shut _up_ already, Amon!" Doujima's exasperated shout interrupted as she managed to twist out of Dante's grasp and lunge at Amon. _Geez_, you can be so annoying sometimes!" Dante saved her from falling over completely with a steadying hand around her waist. His expression was pure annoyance and Robin felt bad about how he was being forced to baby-sit her inebriated friend when he barely knew her. She wondered how long his respect for Juliano would inspire him to continue helping her before he simply decided it was far too much effort.

"I see someone's drank a bit more than they could handle," Touko commented with a wicked smile as she watched Doujima flail about.

Amon did not even seem to notice the exchange. His eyes were focused on the demon hunter. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Dante met his threatening gaze with a soft scoff and a shake of his head. "A man who's putting up with an awful lot of shit for a free beer." He turned his cool blue gaze back on Robin. "Do you think we could get your incoherently drunk friend out of here sometime this century, Robin, babe? Preferably _before _she brings the roof down on our heads?" He looked back at Amon with an assessing expression. "Or before your other friend here decides to get stupid and pick a fight? Because God knows I'm ready for one right about now." The fingers of his free hand hovered near the edge of his coat, near the gun Doujima had discovered and Robin felt panic pumping through her veins.

Without a word or a glance, Robin turned her back on Amon and crossed the small anteroom to Dante. A strong hand clamped down on her arm so hard it brought tears to her eyes as it dragged her a step or two backward. "What are you doing here with him?" Amon hissed in her ear.

"Amon!" Touko cried in warning, now a pace or so behind them.

The sound of a gun being cocked drew Robin's attention upward as she saw Dante standing in front of her with his gun pressed against Amon's temple. The fact Amon had not even reacted yet frightened her. It frightened her because Amon had the quickest reflexes of anyone she had ever met, and if Dante was that much faster, how much better must he be? It also frightened her because though she wanted to trust Dante, she didn't have proof that she could, and if he had an advantage over Amon, she didn't want to think where this might lead. More than anything else though, she was afraid because she had never heard fear before in Amon's voice, but she had certainly heard it in his question a moment ago. Amon did not release her arm, but slackened his grip enough to at least stop it from being painful. He pulled her closer to him--so close she could feel his heart thudding in his chest--and she realized dimly that Amon seemed to think he was protecting her. Did he know more about this demon hunter than she did?

"I suggest you let her go," Dante commented nonchalantly, as if he didn't have a gun against Amon's head. "Ebony hasn't been fed in awhile and she's getting hungry." It took Robin a moment to realize he was talking about the gun.

Amon did not respond, but she could feel his muscles tightening like a coil ready to spring, though she feared what Dante's reaction would be to whatever Amon had planned. "Dante," Robin murmured and she thought she felt Amon flinch. She reached up to lay a hand lightly on Dante's forearm. "It's all right. He's not my enemy. Please, don't hurt him."

Dante glanced down at her and shook his head with a sigh. "Whatever you say, babe. Looks like trouble to me." He dropped his gun arm only to find an orbo gun pressed against his neck a moment later. Amon had moved too quickly for Robin to even follow, restoring her faith in his quick reactions, but it still annoyed her that he would provoke someone he didn't even know when she had just defended him. "Heh," Dante laughed dryly, "you're trying your luck, buddy." Then he added, leaning closer to Amon, taunting him. "Go ahead, shoot me. You might be surprised by what happens."

Suddenly, Doujima yawned loudly and dramatically. "C'mon, Robin," she slurred. "I'm chokin' on the testosterone in 'ere.

"Amon," Robin said coldly. At the tone in her voice, Amon dropped his weapon to his side and looked at her. The pure, unrepressed emotion on his face made her stomach drop to the soles of her feet. Hurt and brokenness gazed out at her through his eyes and she felt lightheaded from the adrenaline which surged through her body in response to it. What could she have done to cause him such pain? Then he blinked and the emotion was gone as quickly as it had appeared. His face was again a mask as he looked away, and she had to wonder if she had imagined the entire thing.

When she returned her attention to Dante, she found he had already scooped Doujima up in his arms to keep her from attempting to escape again and was waiting patiently for Robin just outside the door. Making her decision, Robin followed with only a glance back, cringing when she heard Dante remark, "Please, tell me that prig isn't one of your unusual sources."

-------

**The demon hunter has arrived. And is Amon a bit _jealous_**** perhaps? We shall just have to wait and find out in Chapter 7: Meltdown, to be uploaded soon. And why do I suddenly sound like the Robotech Announcer? "Questions posed by two people living under the shadow of ultimate destruction." And one of my personal favorites: "Life was returning to normal on the SDF-1, if you can call normal living in a city inside a giant spaceship near the orbit of Pluto." **

**Ah, Robotech . . . brings back memories of better, simpler times. When the bad guys were huge aliens with weird distorted voices and the good guys were cocky fighter pilots who used to fly in the circus. And the captain was a pipe smoking Russian with a very generic name. **

**CAPTAIN GLOVAL: I was just holding the pipe in my teeth. I wasn't going to light it.**

**And Minmei was annoying, and--wait. This isn't a happy memory anymore. Would somebody put Minmei out of our misery before I start bleeding from my ears?**

**Sorry, got a little off track there . . . The random bug bit me, but I'm better now. A little Elixir fixed me right up. And it refilled my MP too. Cool. **

**No good. I'm still random. Oh well . . . Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	7. Meltdown

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all for your reviews! You're making me all blushy and stuff. I'll do my best to keep updating as often as possible! I'm also relieved people don't mind the crossoverness. Devil May Cry is a little cheesy as far as dialogue in the game goes, but it's a helluva lot of fun to play. And Dante's fun to look at. I'm not really sure what inspired me to put him in a WHR story, but he seems to fit in, oddly enough.**

**Anyway, prepare yourselves for Amon angst and utter OOC-ness ahead. But there's a reason for it. I swear!**

Chapter 7

Meltdown

Amon sped away from the building where he had just dropped Touko off at work, anger pushing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. He weaved through traffic, air whipping through his half-open sunroof and tangling his hair around his face. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He pushed the pedal down harder and nearly collided with another car as he ran a red light. Skidding out of the way, he managed to stay on the road, forcing himself to bring his reckless emotions under control.

Touko had been upset with him this morning because he had refused to indulge her last night when they finally made it back to his apartment. Actually, it would be more accurate to say she had been upset with him last night. This morning she had been incensed. Not only had he refused her, but he had also chosen to sleep on the couch, leaving her alone in the bedroom. He'd offered to drive her home, but she claimed she hadn't wanted to be anywhere near "that little witch" in the near future. Exactly where her bizarre anger with Robin had come from, he wasn't sure, but he found he didn't really care all that much. Touko's anger hadn't even scratched the surface of the numbness which had taken over his body.

He heard Robin say his name again in his mind and he winced with a pain that cut so deep it burned. Robin had always said his name with prayer-like reverence, giving it so many layers of meaning with a simple breath that--despite every caution of his logical mind--he longed to hear it again before it had even fully left her lips. But last night, she had said that strange man's name with all the mystery and the admiration. His own name she had spoken like a curse, with a coldness and a harshness that struck him to the core. It was a ridiculous thing to be hurting so deeply over, and yet with her, nothing was superficial. Subtleties were important because she didn't do such things frivolously or without thought. If she had spoken his name differently, it meant something. It meant, even after her unwavering reactions throughout his cruel treatment of her, it was still possible to make her angry enough with him to cause her to hate him. Zaizen's command to seduce her was at the bottom of his list of reasons why her hatred was the last thing he wanted.

He pulled into the underground garage below STN-J so quickly his tires squealed as he jerked to a stop in a parking spot. Robin's Vespa was already in its usual spot, he noted. A haze swam across his vision suddenly, accompanied by a sense of nausea and he attempted to regain control. He must have been allowing his emotions to affect him physically, which was a weakness he abhorred even more than his weakness in feeling the emotions in the first place. Though Robin had always inspired a whirlwind of contradicting reactions in him, he had never felt such instensity of emotion for her as he now felt flooding his body. It was both unnerving and damned annoying. He detested this feeling of teetering on the edge of losing control.

Getting out of his car and slamming the door shut, he stalked to the elevator, still fuming despite his attempt at control. He was so wrapped up in his own self-pity that he neglected to notice the footsteps behind him. "Hmm, rough night last night?" Karasuma asked with a smile as she slipped into the elevator behind him. Restraining the desire to bite her head off, he replied with complete silence instead, deciding biting his own tongue was less dangerous. She shrugged finally and shook her head. "Suit yourself."

The elevator stopped and Amon hesitated before sweeping out into the hallway, preparing himself for his first sight of her--and waiting for the wave of dizziness coinciding with the elevator's change in motion to fade. _Strange. The elevator's never affected me that way before._ Shaking the thought from his head, he stepped off onto the fifth floor. As he rounded the corner, he saw Robin standing next to Michael leaning over him as he worked, wearing her usual black dress with her hair once again pulled up into that strange hairstyle. He felt a hint of disappointment that she had gone back to her usual clothes as he remembered the way she had looked last night. Then he told himself to be glad she was wearing her conservative attire again. He thought seeing her with her hair loose and her body concealed in fewer layers of fabric right now might just drive him mad.

Doujima was addressing Robin, sitting backwards in a chair with her back to the door and practically unconscious with her head on the desk next to Michael's computer. "I can't believe you're wearing that dress again," she was muttering. "And that horrid hairstyle! Please tell me you didn't throw out all those clothes!"

"No," Robin replied in her ethereal voice. "I just didn't think they were appropriate for work.

"Hey, I think I found something," Michael interrupted with a smile, practically glowing as he looked up at Robin. "It looks like most of those names Dante gave you show up on our list of witches. And there was a strange incident a few months ago in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. Several of the witches were found dead with bullet wounds and other wounds from some kind of blade. Half of the building had been burnt with a high intensity fire. It sounds like the place he described where he first confronted them."

"Hmph!" Doujima scoffed. "Where else would it have been? Do you know how many 'old abandoned warehouses on the edge of town' we have around here, and how many of them are hideouts for witches?"

Sakaki passed by, taking a moment to lean very close to Doujima's ear and scream, "I don't know, Doujima, how many do we have around here?"

Face twitching behind her dark glasses, Doujima jumped out of her chair and tackled Sakaki to the ground. "You bastard!" she growled. "Do you want to know how badly my head hurts right now? Do you?!" She slammed his head into the floor--or at least attempted to. Her coordination wasn't so good and she was rather weak so all she really managed was to knock her own head into his. They both collapsed in an insensate pile as she howled in pain.

Karasuma patted her on the head as she stepped over them toward her desk. "No roughhousing in the house, kids," she said with a smile.

" . . . I don't see anything to indicate a doorway into hell," Michael continued, ignoring the commotion. "But maybe Dante could find some clues in this report I don't recognize."

Robin smiled down at him. "Thank you, Michael."

Amon's rage threatened to supernova as he listened to them. Instead, he released it in a small concentrated burst. "Michael!" he snapped. "Briefing room. Now."

Michael nearly jumped out of his chair and into Robin's arms in shock. Robin simply blinked up at Amon with a storm of emotions in her green eyes. Amon met her gaze long enough to know he was pushing himself to brink of insanity before he spun away, turning on his heel and heading for the briefing room, his shoes making sharp clapping noises on the floor. He heard Michael scurry after him, and waited silently in the darkness for him to catch up. The pause allowed him enough time to calm his heart and catch his breath.

"Sir?" Michael asked meekly when he had entered the shadowy room.

"What kind of information were you gathering for Robin?"

"Just something about a witch case. It's too early to tell, but--"

"It's not _our_ case though, is it, Michael?"

Michael paused. "What do you mean?"

"You're using STN-J's database to help an outsider."

"You mean her friend? Robin says we can trust him."

"Robin isn't exactly the world's best resource on trust," Amon snapped back. "We don't know anything about this man, and furthermore--"

"Why are you always doing that to her?" Michael growled, catching Amon completely off-guard with the intensity of his reaction. "You're always belittling her. Why do you have to constantly drag her down?"

_Robin_ is undermining my authority with this little pet project--

"Disrupting your control, you mean!" What had made Michael so hotheaded all of a sudden? Or perhaps this outburst had been building for quite some time.

"Michael."

Pain stabbed Amon's heart like a dagger as he heard Robin say Michael's name in the tone she used to use for his name alone. He had to turn away to keep the emotions from flooding across his face again like they had last night. He heard Michael shuffle away after a few whispered words from Robin and Amon felt himself crumbling inside. What was she doing to him? He couldn't remember ever feeling so weak before. It was as if she truly had cursed him--used her powers to cast a spell on him and break his soul.

"Why are you so angry?" he heard her ask faintly, and he gave up his last hope that she would say his name. He did not reply. He couldn't find his voice. He flinched as he felt her venture to touch his arm ever so lightly. "What are you afraid of?"

Afraid? When had he said he was afraid?

"Why won't you talk to me?!" Her voice was desperate, even in its faintness, and still he waited; listening, hungering for that one word that would push him over the edge. "Amon!"

His resolve melted and he felt another wave of nausea wash over him. He had to throw an arm out to the wall to support himself. Finally, he found his voice, though it was hoarse and abrasive. "That man is more dangerous than you realize. I don't know how you know him, but it's foolishness to trust him."

"How do _you_ know him?" she inquired curiously, and he realized his words had indeed implied prior acquaintance with the man.

"I don't. It's just an instinct. A premonition. Something about him seems familiar to me, and it tells me that he's not to be trusted."

"My instincts say otherwise." He longed to turn around to see the expression on her face, to read the mixture of emotions hinted at in her words, but he remained motionless.

"How do you know your instincts are right?"

"Well," she replied slowly. _You_ are a dangerous man, and some might say it is foolishness to trust you, yet I do--because my instincts tell me your heart is trustworthy."

The room slid sideways, and he caught himself from falling with his other hand braced against the briefing table though his muscles were trembling from the exertion. His breath came in labored gasps as he allowed himself to sink to his knees. _What is she doing to me?_

"Amon?!" She was kneeling next to him and he could just make out the shape of her face in the shadows as she looked up at him, concern twisting every feature. Her wrist was cool against his forehead--so blessedly cool. "You're burning up!" she whispered frantically.

"It's your fire, Robin," he murmured huskily, leaning toward her, his breath rebounding off her skin. "You're burning me to ashes." He saw her eyes widen in shock, but he couldn't stop himself as he pressed his lips against hers with urgency, as if this was the last chance he would ever have to touch her as he had wanted to for so long. He felt so weak, and he was only growing weaker. He could feel his life slipping away from him. She caught him in her arms easily as he felt the dim light of the conference room fading to shadow, and he clung to her desperately as he drowned in the darkness.

"Amon!" she cried in panic though her voice sounded distorted and far away to him now. So distant. The stars were filling the sky. Cold, faraway, so remote he could never hope to touch them. "Someone help me! Michael! Doujima! Karasuma!"

"I love you," he found himself mumbling against her throat to his own surprise, uncertain where the words had come from and shocked at the possibility they truly described his elusive feelings for her. His lips felt as numb as the rest of his body as he floated away, into an abyss where no light shone. No sun. No stars. No Robin. Nothing that mattered to him. Only emptiness.

-------

**Don't hurt me! He's not dead! **

**Next chapter on the way: Chapter 8: Babe-sitting.******


	8. Babesitting

Chapter 8

Babe-sitting

"Why am I here?" Dante wondered as he navigated through the maze-like hallways of the hospital. It certainly wasn't his style to go looking after teenage girls he barely knew, especially when it involved visiting their friend in the hospital who had threatened him with a gun the night before. Yet, here he was knocking lightly on the door of the aforementioned friend's room. Either he was going soft, had lost his mind, or that old priest back in Italy had cast some kind of spell on him to protect this young girl on the off chance he would happen to run into her. Whatever the case, he really had little choice left in the matter now.

"Come in."

He peeked inside the doorway to see the girl knelt down by the bed, her hands clasped in front of her chest, her head bowed and her eyes closed. He noted her black dress and odd hairstyle, wondering what had happened to the chic young woman he had met at the party the night before. Dismissing his curiosity, Dante slipped through the doorway and shut the door behind him, glancing at the unconscious man on the bed. Sweat beaded the man's brow, pasting strands of black hair to his forehead, and his pale skin was flushed with an unhealthy pallor as he slept restlessly, his lips moving silently in his sleep. He certainly did not look like the same man who had pressed a gun against Dante's neck last night.

Returning his gaze to Robin when he saw her stir out of the corner of his eye, Dante watched as she made the sign of the cross and rose to her feet. The look of sorrow clouding her eyes made his own motivation clear to him; he knew why he had gone out of his way for her. Though he barely knew her, he felt a sibling-esque kinship to this young girl he could not explain, yet could not deny. It had appeared suddenly and unexpectedly at the realization of their slight connection through Juliano, but it took hold of him every time he looked into her emerald eyes, and it refused to let go. He couldn't say no to that solemn gaze no matter how much he might try. So, what would be the point in fighting it, really? _Just go with the flow . . ._

"You all right, babe?" he inquired, leaning against the wall near the door, his hands in his pockets. She shook her head silently, looking so very lost Dante momentarily felt entirely helpless. He found himself wishing suddenly that Trish were with him. She was so much better at dealing with these kinds of things. But, no, he had to go and be all the man and take care of this simple little job on his own. He knew she had thought he was being an idiot, and he knew he had pissed her off, but had that stopped him? No. He'd gone and left without her anyway. And he refused to call her for help just because he was in over his head in emotional crap.

Utterly unaware of his internal conversation, Robin had turned her attention back to the bed and her powerless companion, her shoulders drooping. "The doctors can't figure out what's wrong with him," she commented quietly. "His temperature just keeps rising and they can't find a way to break the fever. Maybe if they could figure out what's causing it . . . but he seems to be in perfect health aside from the fever." She glanced at him and frowned self-consciously. "I hadn't expected you to actually come to the hospital. I just called to let you know where to find me if you needed me."

"Hey, no problem . . ." He scratched the back of his head. "I just find this situation a little suspicious though, don't you?" She turned her green gaze back to him curiously but did not respond. "I mean here your friend is, practically in a coma for no reason modern medicine can understand. What are the other possible causes of his condition if it's not an infection or some kind of virus?" She blinked back at him. "I guess all I'm saying is that he seemed to have a bit of a happy trigger finger, and I'm starting to wonder if I'm the only dangerous being he's pointed a gun at lately."

"We're witch hunters. That's part of our job description."

"Nevertheless, do you know of anyone supernatural he could have pissed off recently? I mean, other than me? 'Cause his run of bad luck here reeks of paranormal activity.

"I don't know of anyone," she answered in a fragile whisper. "But he doesn't tell me very much about his life outside work--or even his life at work most of the time, for that matter."

"I thought that Doujima chick said you and this Amon guy are partners. Shouldn't partners share a little more information?"

Robin hesitated. "I don't think Amon really trusts me."

"Hmm. He really is a dumbass."

A glance at Robin told him she was still considering his question from before. "Do you think that what happened to Amon could have any connection to the witch you're looking for?"

He shrugged, combing his hand through his hair. "From what little I know of the witch, she's never used her powers like this before. Still . . . she just gained a lot of extra power with a little help from her satanic friends. Who knows what she can do--or will do?" A quiet sniffle drew his attention back down to the girl beside him. Tears were sliding down her cheeks. "Robin . . ."

Words came out of her in a torrent, her voice thick with tears. "Amon said something to me just before he passed out. He was already half-delirious at the time from the fever, but he said--" Her voice broke and she paused before trying again. "He said he was burning because of my fire." Her eyes looked up at him imploringly. "I'm a craft user, Dante, and my element is fire. What if . . . what if I'm the one doing this to him without even realizing it?"

A sob escaped her lips and Dante pulled her into his arms as she cried, gently rubbing circles over her slight back. He didn't have a complete answer for her, yet he suspected somehow that Amon hadn't meant those words literally. The guy may not have made the best impression on Dante, but Dante had seen the look in his eyes when he looked at Robin. As for the part about her craft--Juliano had mentioned something to him about it himself, though the old man was reluctant to talk much about the subject. Nevertheless, Dante could easily imagine that the fire which burned Amon had nothing to do with a craft at all. It was the fire in her eyes--the fire in her spirit, which could burn anyone who got close enough to her.

-----

Karasuma looked up at the sound of Robin's voice. She hadn't even heard the girl enter the office until she spoke. "Michael. Have you found out anything more about that witch?" Robin looked haggard, her hair frazzled, her eyes dark and her skin even paler than usual. Karasuma frowned with pity for the young hunter. She knew Robin felt somehow responsible for whatever had happened to Amon, though Karasuma couldn't imagine why.

Karasuma's eyes wandered from Robin to her strange companion as he drifted into the room behind her. The demon hunter, as Robin had named him when she brought him into the office the day before, noticed her attention almost immediately and shifted his cool gaze to meet her own. Thumbs tucked casually in the pockets of his leather pants, he glanced briefly at Robin and Michael who were still talking, before wandering across the room to her. The intensity of his gaze might have unnerved her if she hadn't been so used to working with Amon and dealing with his penetrating stares.

"You have something to say to me?" He sat down on the edge of her desk with a raised eyebrow.

"Just wondering where you fit into all of this," she answered honestly, arms crossed over her chest. "You waltz into our office tagging after the heels of our youngest hunter like a puppy, and offer to help us find a witch who may or may not have something to do with the case we're already working on. You don't have authorization to be here, nor do you seem to care. And most interesting of all, your appearance immediately follows the strange incapacitation of our lead hunter. You're damn lucky Zaizen is out of the country and the Chief is visiting his sick mother right now, or you might have been barred from the building already."

He smiled. "You witch hunters are such a friendly crowd.

"We aren't trained to be friendly."

"Oh, lighten up, Karasuma!" Sakaki sighed, leaning back on the back legs of his chair. "The guy didn't have anything to do with what happened to Amon, and you know it. Robin wouldn't have brought him here if he did."

A frown creased her brow. She didn't like the way Sakaki had taken to hero-worshipping Dante--and all simply because the man had an "awesome" motorcycle and a well-honed aura of cool. "How can you say that, Sakaki, when we still don't know what exactly happened to Amon?"

Scowling, Sakaki looked away, unable to answer her question.

"I did find something else though," Michael was saying as Karasuma returned her attention to the hacker during the silence following her question. "I don't know how helpful it is, but I think I found our witch's full name.

"What is it?" Robin asked eagerly.

"Like Dante said, the first name is Beatrice," Michael answered, "and from what I can tell, her father's name was Sparda."

Dante slid off the desk and rose to his feet, drawing Karasuma's attention again. His lips were parted in what appeared to be astonishment, and his pale brows were drawn together and creased with distress. "Want to run that one past me again, Mike?"

Michael looked up at him in surprise. "I was saying that I think the witch's name is Beatrice Sparda. Unfortunately, I can't find much information on her family except a strange rumor about her father not being completely human," he replied uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"

Dante turned away, letting loose a string of curse words under his breath so vulgar Karasuma found herself blushing in embarrassment. Combing his hand through his disheveled silver locks, he fingered the ivory-plated gun peeking out from beneath his coat before reaching for his back pocket. He pulled out a cell phone and flipped it open with almost enough force to tear it apart, punching in a number with annoyance. "I've gotta make a call," he muttered before pacing away to the corner and putting the phone to his ear.

"What was that about?" Michael asked quietly when the demon hunter was out of earshot.

"No idea . . ." Karasuma murmured, watching Dante pace in the corner of the room and straining her ears to hear his words.

"Yeah, so I made a mistake," Dante snapped. A pause followed his statement after which he growled softly in frustration. "Listen, Trish, I don't have time for this bullshit. I know I'm an asshole. You know I'm an asshole. Just get over it already and listen to me. This 'witch,' if that's even what she is, either has a risky sense of humor or has a hell of a lot of explaining to do. Either way, I've got a bad feeling about this whole thing." He paused again. "Yes, I'm asking for your help. Are you satisfied?" Another pause, in which Dante rolled his eyes. "I don't want to hear it Trish. This bitch knows I'm tailing her and I've got a feeling she let this bit of information drop just to taunt me. She would only do that if she were incredibly stupid or even more powerful than I thought. My gut tells me it's the latter. So, unless you want another Mundus trying to break into this world, you'd better stop yakkin' and start packin.'" He snapped the phone shut and clenched his fist around it with a growl. "Damn that woman."

"Dante?" Robin asked uncertainly into the silence.

"My partner's on her way," he replied nonchalantly.

"Your partner?" Karasuma inquired innocently.

"Yeah. Trish. My business partner."

"Business partner," Karasuma echoed with a knowing smile.

"Dante, did you recognize the witch's last name?" Robin inquired cautiously.

An ironic smile twisting his lips, Dante replied with a bitter laugh, "Yeah. I'd hope I could recognize my own last name."

"Sparda's your last name?" Robin looked confused for a moment. "It wasn't on your business card.

"I try not to make it common knowledge. Anyway . . . anything else, Mike?"

"I made up a list of witches with a possible connection to Beatrice," Michael replied reluctantly, clearly wanting to know more about Dante's connection to the witch, but not willing to risk Dante's anger. "We might be able to track her down through one of them." Pushing his glasses up on his nose, he waved a few papers in the air. "Who wants a sheet?"

"I'll take one," Sakaki spoke up, grabbing the first sheet.

"Hey! I wanted that one!" Doujima pouted.

"They're all the same."

"If they're all the same, then give me that one."

"Just work on it together!" Karasuma intervened in frustration. "We should work in pairs anyway." She snatched the last sheet out of Michael's hand, Robin already having taken one. To Karasuma's surprise, Dante pulled Robin's sheet out of her grasp, inciting an angry glare on the girl's face.

"I'll work with you," he stated, handing the sheet to Karasuma. "Miho, isn't it?"

"Wait!" Robin cried. "I--"

"Need to get some rest," Karasuma actually agreed with what she assumed Dante was intending by his action. "You're no help to anyone in a state of exhaustion."

Robin frowned.

"She's right, babe," Dante commented, ruffling the loose hairs on the top of Robin's head. "Promise me you'll go home and get some sleep."

Robin nodded half-heartedly, but it seemed to be the most they would get from her at the moment.

"So," Dante commented, directing Karasuma toward the door with a hand lightly placed against her lower back, "Shall we get started? My bike's parked out front."

Looking at Dante as the realization finally caught up with her that she was stuck working with him, Karasuma sighed. "We're taking my car," she retorted quickly.

"Ah, not the adventurous type, eh?" he asked, continuing to press his hand against her back, forcing her to increase her pace to elude his touch.

"_You'll _never find out." She punched the button for the basement when they reached the elevator, rubbing her temple where she could already feel a headache forming. This was going to be a long afternoon.

-------

**The plot thickens . . . Have I mentioned I enjoy writing Dante dialogue? I've also realized that Dante is kind of a Nagira replacement for me since I couldn't really put Nagira in the story when it takes place at this point in the series. But I really like Nagira! Someday I'm going to write another fic and include Nagira. **


	9. YoYo

**Author's Note: **

**Sorry it's taken me awhile to post this chapter. I've been a little distracted with health insurance issues, of all things. Being in the real world and acting like a responsible adult really sucks sometimes, you know? **

**I also had some things to work out in the plot of the story overall before I felt like I could post this chapter anyway since it forced me to make a few decisions. I apologize in advance for Touko OOC in this chapter --though I suppose some of you might feel like it's in character! :) Also, I wanted to thank all of you for your reviews. Your feedback keeps me inspired in spite of the annoyance of real world shit!**

Chapter 9

Yo-Yo

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Robin suppressed a yawn as she worked her way through the halls of the hospital. She had gone home and attempted to follow Dante's and Karasuma's instructions to rest, but sleep had refused her. She had only dozed off once, and then only to slip into a nightmare which left her feeling more exhausted than before. The content of the dream was unimportant, except that it had recalled those last few moments in the briefing room before Amon's collapse with such clarity she felt as if she had experienced the event all over again. This time around, she found herself noticing minutiae within the memory which shock and fear had hidden from her at the time. She remembered the sensation of Amon's mouth burning against her own . . . his hands reaching for her, and the feel of his lips moving against her neck as he mumbled something incoherent. Something which sounded like--but no, it couldn't have been. He couldn't have whispered those words. The thought was ridiculous.

She shook herself out of the memory as she paused in front of his room, steeling herself for the pain of seeing him lying there so vulnerable and weak. Vulnerability was not a word she could associate easily with Amon, and seeing him in such a state pushed her to the verge of tears almost immediately. Taking a deep breath, she turned the doorknob and silently pushed open the door, only to pause awkwardly at the sight before her.

Amon was stirring slightly in his sleep, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. A woman was standing over him--a woman she recognized as Touko. As Robin watched, Touko leaned over the bed and kissed Amon passionately, one of her hands tracing down his side. The intimacy of the situation made Robin feel like an intruder for the second time this week, and she had been about to close the door again and take a walk when she noticed what Touko was holding in her other hand. It looked like a syringe. Robin's breath caught in her throat.

"I'm sorry I have to do this, Amon," Touko said wistfully, reaching for his IV. "But you just can't wake up yet. You'll only get in the way." She inserted the needle in the IV, but before she could depress it, her sleeve caught on fire. The syringe flew across the room to embed itself in the wall where Robin's head had been. "You!" Touko spat as she put out the flames on her shirt. "You little _witch!_ My master will deal with you soon enough."

Robin's eyes widened. This didn't sound like the Touko she knew. Why was she acting like this? And what had she been about to do to Amon? "Touko," Robin breathed as she dodged another thrown object. She tripped over a track in the floor made for a curtain and knocked her glasses off her face as she hit the foot of the bed.

"You and your new half-demon boyfriend," Touko continued in a rage, "ruining all my master's plans! You will both suffer the consequences." Ripping the phone out of the wall, Touko lobbed it at Robin, forcing her to dodge yet again.

Robin searched frantically for her glasses, reluctant to use her craft in a hospital without complete control. Suddenly Robin felt one of Touko's thin arms clamp around her waist as she pressed a cold, blunt object against Robin's side. Robin looked down to see an orbo gun in Touko's hand--Amon's orbo gun. Robin struggled desperately to free herself, but her roommate seemed to have miraculously developed super human strength.

"My master says you will die when they are through using you," Touko whispered into Robin's hair, "but that's not soon enough for me. I can't tell you how tired I am of the way you're always giving him those innocent looks. Those looks that make him act as if you're the last pure thing in the universe. I'm tired of hearing him call out your name at night instead of mine, though he denies it every time. And I'm tired of doing my father's bidding and keeping an eye on you all the time for the sake of some marvelous plot against . . . whoever it is. I don't even know or care anymore." The gun pressed harder into Robin's ribs, causing her to whimper. "Except that I've decided to rid him of the trouble of finding someone else to watch you. I'll kill you myself so you're no longer a problem to anyone. My master will just have to make his plans work without you because I can't wait any longer for you to die. Amon will forget you eventually. He'll learn to scream my name again."

A hollow thud followed by a grunt from Touko was all the warning Robin had before the gun skidded off across the floor and Touko crumpled in a heap behind her. Spinning around to face her savior, knowing it could also be a possible enemy, she nearly toppled over at the sight of Amon standing there with the vase of flowers the STN-J members had brought him in his hands. His hair was disheveled and tubes hung from his wrist, but he was awake, and the flush was fading from his face. He placed the vase down on a table near him, his hands trembling slightly.

Unable to restrain her relief any longer, Robin felt tears track down her cheeks. "Amon!" Despite his expression of confusion, she launched herself at him, nearly knocking him off his feet as she slammed into him. Wanting so badly to feel safe and protected--and to be assured he was safe and alive--she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest. She could feel his heart racing in surprise at her actions, and she sensed him struggling in his decision of how to respond. At the moment though, she didn't care. She didn't care even a little if he thought she was being childish, or if he was affronted by her presumption, or if he was angry with her for invading his personal space. It didn't matter to her in the least, because, for once, she had given in to her desire to touch him. And now that she could feel the solidness of him in her arms and breathe the scent of him into her lungs, she found she never wanted to let go. The only way the moment could have gotten any better would have been if he had returned the embrace.

He pushed her away firmly; though he only managed to loosen her hold on him, not break it. "Robin?" His gaze was distant and cold. "What happened? What are we doing here?"

She felt some of her resolve waver and she pulled away a little, her cheeks coloring as she realized the back of his hospital gown had opened slightly and her hands were resting against his bare skin. "You mean you don't remember?" She felt lost suddenly.

"The last thing I remember . . . I was standing in the briefing room with Michael . . . and then I heard your voice, and . . ." He shook his head. "The rest is just a blur."

She nodded silently, stepping away from him entirely and feeling a chill wash over her. "You had a fever," she explained simply. Pulling the syringe out of the wall and showing it to him, she added. "It seems Touko was the one causing it. I still don't understand why." She glanced down at her roommate. "It looks like she stole your orbo gun as well."

"She was angry with me," he commented emotionlessly, his gaze falling on Touko. "Though I don't remember much about what happened after leaving the party." Looking back up at her with narrowed eyes, he added, "I didn't realize just how angry she was with you though."

Robin looked away from his frosty stare, shivering. Clasping her pendant in her hands, she replied slowly, "I don't know why she was angry with me. I never meant to do anything to hurt her, yet she seems to hate me so much."

Unexpectedly, she felt the warmth of his body press against her back as he placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "It's not your fault," he whispered, his voice deeper than usual and filled with some emotion she couldn't identify. His hands slid down over her arms lightly before dropping to her waist and pulling her closer. Goosebumps spread across her skin as he pressed a series of gentle kisses against the nape of her neck, his nose and mouth grazing against the sensitive skin right below her hairline. She didn't know what to do, or whether to do anything at all for fear of causing him to stop. His complete shift in demeanor from the harsh Amon she was used to dealing with to the strange, gentle one she had glimpsed only in scattered moments over the last few days was almost too much for her to handle. Her head was spinning and she feared that if he hadn't been holding her up, she would have collapsed to the floor next to Touko.

"This is the reason she hates you," he whispered into her ear before placing another gentle kiss just below her ear. "She hates you for what you can do to me without even trying." One of his hands slid a little bit lower over her hip as his lips found a spot just below her jawbone, sending fire burning through her veins at the touch

"Amon?" Her voice sounded childlike and frightened in the deathly quiet of the room.

He pulled away from her so swiftly she had to lean against the wall to regain her balance.

"Your phone is ringing," he commented, slipping back into his customary composed tone again. He didn't even look at her when she turned around, keeping his gaze focused on the window, his face as blank as the white walls of the room. "You're not supposed to use cell phones in hospitals, you know."

Feeling the sudden intense desire to cry, Robin nodded silently and hurried out of the room. Reaching in her pocket for her phone once she was outside the building, she saw that the missed call was from STN-J's number and dialed it back.

Michael answered the phone almost immediately. "Michael," she responded, her voice quavering despite her attempt to control it. "What's going on?"

"Robin?" Michael's voice was worried. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Amon just woke up, that's all."

"Really? Is he okay?"

"Seems to be just fine . . ."

"Oh! Wow."

"Why did you call me?" she prompted him finally.

"Oh yeah! Um, I've got some more information about the witch. Doujima and Sakaki ran into some guy who was working for her. Well, I suppose he wasn't voluntarily working for her, but it didn't seem like he had much choice. The guy wasn't on my list of possible connections; in fact he seemed to have nothing in common with the witch at all except Dante had mentioned Beatrice's talent for manipulating people. This guy was kind of an easy target, I guess, since he was sort of resentful, and carrying around a lot of repressed anger--Dante said negative emotions are far easier for an outside source to control. Anyway, they found some strange symbols like the ones Amon and Sakaki found in the cemetery, and they want you to take a look at them."

"Touko," Robin whispered, her mind still a sentence behind him as his words gave her the answer to her why her roommate had gone out of control so suddenly. "Michael, I think Touko was manipulated by this witch as well."

"Your roommate?!"

"Yes. She attacked me in Amon's hospital room." Robin wondered suddenly what Amon intended to do about Touko's unconscious body. Then a thought occurred to her. "Michael, can you find out if the man Sakaki and Doujima ran across was at the party the other night? Touko was there too, and Dante had gone there thinking he'd find the witch. If the witch was actually at the party, it would explain how they both came in contact with her."

"Yikes! If that is the case, I wonder how many other people she came in contact with too." Michael paused. "Wait a minute, you actually did go to that party with Doujima? I thought she was just pulling my leg."

"You said something about symbols?" she asked, avoiding his question. "What symbols did Amon find in the cemetery?"

He hesitated before replying. "You mean he didn't mention them to you?"

Robin frowned. "No."

" . . . Oh. Well, I guess he just forgot. They, uh . . ." She could hear some shuffling of papers on the other end of the line. "They looked like they formed an Ogham wheel, though I haven't managed to track down all the elements within it. Some of the symbols are pretty archaic. As for the strange artifacts they found around the wheel, I just got back the tests today. But I haven't gotten a chance to go through them yet."

Her throat tight, Robin suddenly found breathing to be a difficult task.

"Are you still there, Robin?" Michael asked, worried.

_I don't know if I'm still here, Michael. Maybe not. It's pretty easy for some people to forget I exist, it seems._ She shuddered as she remembered the way Amon had embraced her in the hospital room. He could hold her like that, and yet he could not share information about the case with her, even when it was in her area of expertise? His lack of trust never ceased to amaze her. Remembering Michael was still waiting for her response, she swallowed her hurt and came up with a change of topic quickly, "Have you heard back from Karasuma and Dante yet?"

"Hmph."

"What is it?"

"You're starting to sound like Amon."

"What do you mean?" The comment felt like an insult to her, considering her present opinion of her partner.

"Never mind . . . Anyway, they're still working through their list. They said they'd check back in if they found anything. Hey, do you know why Dante is always calling women 'babe?'' Do you like it when he calls you that?"

Michael's attempt to lighten the mood caught her off guard, though now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure why Dante used that term. Normally it would feel offensive to her, yet somehow he managed to get away with it. "I don't know," she replied honestly.

"Well, either way, it's too bad we can't trade in Amon for Dante, isn't it? At least he's got a sense of humor, you know? Amon's always so--"

The unexpected pause made Robin's heart stop for a moment. "Michael?!"

"Director," she heard Michael say with his mouth away from the microphone, obviously not speaking to her. "We didn't expect you back until next week. No, I didn't mean . . . I mean, I . . . I know." Michael's tone had descended into shame. "Yes . . . . Yes. I understand. I won't--but I . . ." Then his voice came back. "Robin? I have to go." The line disconnected, leaving Robin with a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Suddenly Amon appeared next to her, pushing a wheelchair ahead of him into which he had propped up Touko. He was dressed in his usual clothes though they were a little more wrinkled than normal. Robin looked at him in surprise, amazed that he had managed to get checked out of the hospital so quickly. "I called Karasuma from the phone in the room," he stated. "She's on her way to pick us up."

"I drove my Vespa," Robin replied faintly, not feeling up to sharing the backseat of a car with Amon and his unconscious lover, especially with the volatility of her emotions at the moment. She took a few steps away only to be pulled to a stop, Amon's steely grip on her arm.

"We'll pick it up later."

Robin glanced at Touko, diverting his attention. "What are you going to do with her?"

He didn't answer her question. Instead, he released her arm and combed his hand through his hair in an attempt to put it in order. "Did you speak with Michael?"

She almost responded out of habit, but decided two could play at his game and clamped her mouth shut. His eyes bored into the back of her head, but he did not repeat the question. Feeling a small satisfaction at her refusal to let him dictate all the rules, she decided to push the boundaries a little more. "Sakaki and Doujima want me to check out something they found." Cutting in front of the wheelchair so he couldn't easily follow, Robin hopped down the steps toward her Vespa. "I'll see you back at Raven's flat later," she called over her shoulder without turning around. He did not follow, but she knew there would be consequences for her actions back at the office.

At the moment though, she no longer cared. She was growing weary of always bending whichever way he decided the wind should blow. His shifts in demeanor lately were getting too extreme for even her to deal with. She cared for him, it was true. And now she could surmise from Touko's words as well as his own actions, that he cared for her as well, but it wasn't enough to care about someone if you still treated them like a chunk of mud caked on your shoe the rest of the time. Though she often had a terrible time reading his reactions, she knew enough now to realize his facade of apathy and indifference was not the entirety of his feelings. But his feelings mattered little when he continued putting so much time and effort into keeping her at a distance, and continued refusing to trust her as a colleague and a partner. She had finally decided she deserved more than his selfish tantrums when he lost control. If he wanted her, as she was slowly beginning to realize he did on some level at least, he would have to earn the right to touch her.

-------

**Hope you all enjoyed it. I promise to get the next chapter up soon! **

**To Cali1043: Did I answer your question about the pictures? I had actually inserted a reference to them in a later chapter, but when I was revising this one, I found the reference fit better here and actually strengthened where I was going with things in the first place. Don't know if I would have thought of it though if you hadn't brought it up.**

**To Pyrosa: I apologize for keeping you up late with my story! I can relate though. I was up until at least 2am every night the week I first started writing this fic. Insomnia can be strangely inspiring. Or maybe inspiration causes insomnia . . .**


	10. Rambo

Chapter 10

Rambo

Amon was beginning to think he was a failure in the art of seduction. Perhaps, if he wasn't so conflicted in his feelings toward Robin, he wouldn't be having such a difficult time, but he still had issues with the morality of Zaizen's order, not to mention the fact he was so accustomed to keeping his emotions suppressed it was difficult to let them go even a little without losing all restraint. Robin's reaction really shouldn't have been much of a surprise to him considering his mood swings around her lately. She probably felt like he was only teasing her and toying with her emotions. But wasn't that exactly what Zaizen wanted him to do? Manipulate her into believing he cared for her when he really intended to betray her?

Sighing softly as he waited for Karasuma, he leaned back against the railing of the stairs, wrapping one arm around his waist and propping his elbow up against it. Cupping his chin in his hand, he pressed a finger against his lips, trying to erase the all too vivid sensation of Robin's skin still lingering there. He had almost lost control in that moment. Guilt ridden by how Touko had attacked her because of him, he had wanted to comfort her and make her understand she hadn't done anything wrong . . . but he had gotten a little carried away. He didn't want to think about how far he might have gone if she had not said his name at that moment, her voice so plaintive--as if she hadn't really wanted him to stop and yet was frightened by his extremes in behavior. _I'm such a fool . . . Maybe it's better if I just leave her alone. To hell with Zaizen and his orders._

Amon looked up as he saw a car enter the parking lot and pull up into the drive where he was waiting. Pushing himself away from the railing, he concentrated on keeping his body from trembling, refusing to show any sign of his present weakness though his body rebelled against him. He noticed that Karasuma was not alone in her car as she pulled to a stop in front of him, and he eyed the man sitting in the front seat next to her with misgivings. Though Amon was fairly certain the man Robin had befriended was not a witch, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't completely human either. Exactly what he was though, Amon had only a vague notion.

Leaving the car running, Karasuma got out and approached Amon with concern. "How are you feeling? You still look really pale."

"I'm fine," he answered crisply, pulling away from her touch when she reached out to feel his forehead.

"They cleared you to leave?" she persisted, her expression suspicious. He did not reply since he knew she wouldn't like his answer, instead reaching down to pick Touko up and carry her to the car, ignoring his body's weary complaint. "Amon, maybe you shouldn't," Karasuma protested, placing a hand against his chest. She recoiled with a gasp as soon as she made contact, and he observed her reaction silently. He knew quite well which of his emotions was currently rolling off of him in waves--she may not have intended to scry him, but he doubted she could have avoided the intensity of his feelings.

"Amon . . ."

"Yeah, maybe the babe's right," Dante interjected, oblivious to their strange interchange as he climbed out of the car and pulled his door open wider with a gesture. "Just have a seat and take it easy. You look like you just met a few possessed weapons with an attitude problem, if you know what I mean . . ." Shrugging, and gesturing with one gloved hand, he amended, "Well, actually, you probably don't know what I mean, but believe me, it's enough to put anyone in a bad mood."

Eyes slitted, Amon ignored the hunter's offer, and again reached for Touko, scooping her up in his arms and managing to remain standing with only a little wobble. Dante sighed as if he thought Amon was being juvenile and opened the back door for him with a frown. Placing her in the seat, Amon repressed a sigh of relief as he steadied himself against the side of the car.

"I can't believe she's still unconscious," Karasuma murmured. He could feel her worried eyes watching him even with his back turned. "She doesn't have a concussion or anything, does she? Did you have a doctor take a look at her?"

Annoyed that she would think he wouldn't know the difference between a hit to knock someone out and a blow brutal enough to do damage, he replied curtly, "She'll be fine. I didn't hit her that hard." He felt himself wavering on his feet and caught himself with a hand against the roof of the car, but not before Dante placed a stabilizing hand on his shoulder.

"Are you sure about that?" Dante inquired. "You don't seem to be exactly in top form."

Scowling, Amon shrugged away from the man's grip and began making his way around the car to the opposite rear door without looking back.

"Where's Robin?" Karasuma inquired, gazing back at the hospital. "I thought you said she was with you."

A smirk touched Amon's features as he slid into the back seat beside Touko's limp body. "Robin is exercising her independence."

"And what does that mean?" Karasuma asked, looking back at him as she slid down into the driver's seat.

"It means maybe she's wising up," Dante answered grimly as he pulled his door shut more firmly than was entirely necessary. He glanced over his shoulder through scattered locks of silver hair at Amon before turning back to face front again, shaking his head.

Looking at Dante in frustration as she pulled out into traffic, Karasuma repeated, "And what does _that_ mean?"

"She's testing me," Amon replied finally as he turned to gaze out the window, his words barely a whisper. Karasuma glanced back at him in the rear view mirror with surprise on her face.

He felt Touko's hand fall against his knee as they turned a corner, and looked down at her body sprawled across the seat, reminded of the way he had seen her sprawled across his bed so many times before. He realized that the sight of her--her skirt risen high above her knee and the top button of her shirt threatening to come loose--did absolutely nothing for him. How long had he played her games without feeling a thing? Maybe Zaizen had been right. He wasn't worthy of her.

"You never checked out of the hospital, did you, Amon?" Karasuma asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "You just walked out." He did not reply, continuing to gaze down at Touko. "I can't believe I agreed to come pick you up . . ." she muttered under her breath, along with some other words he could only barely make out. One of them was "obstinate." The other was "men." Amon noticed a smile spreading across Dante's face before he turned away.

A phone rang, playing a jaunty tune Amon knew his phone would never make. He watched as Dante pulled out a cell phone and flipped it open with a wry expression. "You'd better be at the airport or you're going to be making friends with the dial tone real soon." Amon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, unable to hear the voice on the other end of the phone but finding himself curious for no reason at all. "Well, I'm glad that the pilot is a better driver than I am. I only fly planes when I have to babe, and that's generally limited to moments when I have to escape collapsing castles built on top of the mouth of hell. So, unless you've got any other sorry attempts to wound my pride, I've got better things to do with my time." He laughed softly. "I wouldn't consider that to necessarily be a Ôbetter thing,' but it doesn't look like I've got much choice, does it? I'll be there in a few. Don't wander off, and don't seduce any strange men at the airport cafZ . . . No, I'm not worried for you, I'm worried for them! Yeah, whatever Trish . . . hey, you brought my, uh, luggage, didn't you?" He glanced furtively at his companions in the car before exclaiming. "You put it in a cello case?! THAT was subtle. As if you'd go for classical music. Anyway . . . gotta go. Wouldn't want the pretty girl beside me here to get bored." Grinning, he hung up the phone, shrugging innocently in response to Karasuma's skeptical look.

"Your 'business' partner, I assume," Karasuma commented as she pulled the car into the underground garage below STN-J.

"Yeah." He reached for the door handle as the car came to a stop. "I've gotta go pick her up at the airport." He closed the door behind him, pausing when he saw Amon reaching for the back door on his side of the car. "Hey, maybe I should help you carry that lady upstairs before I go--"

"That won't be necessary," Amon replied, already gathering Touko into his arms and heading for the elevator.

"Have it your way, Rambo," Dante muttered as he slammed the door Amon had left open.

Amon heard Karasuma whispering something to Dante before she turned to follow him, probably apologizing for his cold attitude. Or sharing her frustration with him. Either way, Amon didn't really care much at the moment. He didn't even bother to hold the elevator for Karasuma, almost disappointed when she managed to catch it before the doors closed.

Glaring at him as she stepped inside, she demanded, "What is going on with you, Amon? You've always been standoffish, but this is just ridiculous." Without even giving him time to reply, perhaps because she already knew that he wouldn't, she continued, "And what happened between you and Robin? I'll have you know that she was very worried about you. If you lashed out at her and hurt her feelings for no cause as you often do, I--"

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and Amon swept past her as soon as the doors began to open, feeling a muscle twitch in his jaw. Karasuma knocked into his arm as she marched by him a moment later, her strides snapping with anger. Wonderful. He was doing a bang up job of pissing off females today. Sighing softly, he carried Touko into the middle of the room wondering what he really was going to do with her, but stopped cold when he realized he should have been strategizing a little more and brooding a little less. Looking up slowly at one of the cameras hanging from the ceiling of the room, he considered his mistake angrily. How was he going to explain this situation to Zaizen when the Director saw the videotapes? _What was I thinking? I wasn't. I was too busy thinking about Robin's frickin' skin and getting pissed off at Dante's superior attitude. Dammit! I should have called Michael first and had him disable some of the cameras temporarily until we could get her into one of the holding cells. We don't use them for anything else anymore anyway. It would be easy to keep an eye on Touko there. Maybe Michael could still . . ._ As he thought of the hacker, he noticed that Michael's desk was empty and there was no sign of him around.__

"Amon . . ." Karasuma commented suddenly, and he followed her startled gaze, focused above him and to his right. Feeling a knot of dread tightening in his stomach, he followed her line of sight until he saw the light on in Zaizen's office.

Perfect. Just perfect. Now, at least, he didn't have to wait to suffer the consequences of his actions.

-------

**Kind of an odd little chapter, I know. But Amon's kind of an odd guy. The chapter title was actually inspired by a chapter title for one of the La Femme Nikita episodes on the DVDs. It's kind of a tribute in a way. As my friend Lizalou42 and I have discussed in the past, whoever came up with the idea for Witch Hunter Robin clearly was a fan of Nikita because there are far too many eerie similarities between the two shows. Secret organization that keeps a close eye on its operatives. Extremely broody and emotionally distant male lead character who is obviously attracted to female lead character yet manages to constantly push her away and betray her--or so it seems most of the time, though he still protects her. Innocent and compassionate female lead character who is forced to harm/kill others though she doesn't feel comfortable with it morally. Then we have the hacker who not only has a very similar character in both shows, but also looks the same. Come to think of it, Michael (from Nikita, not WHR--hmm, another similarity) and Amon look very similar as well. Creepy . . .**


	11. Remember the Alibi

**Author's note:**

It's time for the next installment. In fact, I believe you will be getting two chapters for the price of one again since I have another chapter just about ready to go too. I just want to make sure everything's consistent due to some minor plot changes I made.

**This chapter is another trip down quirky lane. Also, so no one gets offended, I just wanted to apologize if it seems I'm making fun of Robin's sheltered upbringing. Not so. I am Catholic myself, so I'm not Catholic bashing. But I can make fun of myself with a little exaggeration and parodying (wow, I didn't know that was actually a word until I looked it up just now). The same applies to making fun of video game addicts. No one can get offended since I am one too, right? :) **

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter though its short and silly. I'll have some responses to reviews at the end.**

Chapter 11

Remember the Alibi

"I am _not_ an otaku!"

"What would _you_ call someone who obsesses over video games because he has no real life?"

Robin opened the door of the apartment Doujima had given her directions to, trying to hide a smile as she saw the two hunters standing off against each other with furious glares aimed to maim and destroy. She didn't think they had quite noticed her presence yet, so she stood silently just inside the doorway and watched the show.

"I don't obsess over video games," Sakaki snapped back, glowering. "And I do too have a life."

"You just showed me the callous on your finger from playing Soul Caliber 2. What did you expect me to conclude?" Turning to Robin suddenly, Doujima added, "Robin agrees with me, don't you, Robin?"  
"Robin thinks its cool that I play video games," Sakaki spoke for her before she could even open her mouth to reply. "She's open minded and accepting of others . . . unlike some other people I know."

"Um . . ." Robin interrupted reluctantly. "What exactly is a video game?"

Doujima and Sakaki stared back at her slack jawed for several moments. "You mean . . . you've never seen . . ." Sakaki mumbled in shock. "I can't believe it."

Robin attempted to elaborate. "I've heard people talk about them before, but the only games we played back at the convent were 'Name that Saint' and Pope Trivia. Oh, and there was that one time when we played pin the scripture passage on the Abbot, but that was more of a running joke than anything."

Smiling smugly, Doujima turned back to Sakaki. "See? The world does not revolve around video games."

"Sometime I'm going to have to show you what a video game is," Sakaki insisted, looking solemnly at Robin.

"But right now, we have work to do," Doujima reminded.

"_You're_ reminding _me_ to do work?!" Sakaki cried incredulously.

Ignoring him, Doujima waved Robin over to the bedroom of the apartment. Robin paused in the doorway when she saw the Ogham wheel etched into the wooden floor under the window. Kneeling down cautiously, she examined it closely, feeling a chill unsettle her spine as she made sense of it. "These symbols invoke the protection of the devil," she whispered, pointing the runes out to her companions.

"Hmm. I wonder if the circle Amon and I found said the same thing," Sakaki commented.

"I wouldn't know," Robin murmured, feeling a pang of annoyance once again for Amon's choice to ignore her when she could have been helpful. Returning her attention to the wheel, she noticed something interesting. "Part of the circle has been broken by the patterns in the wood, disrupting its power."

"That's why it didn't protect him," Doujima mused in understanding. "We were at this building looking for one of the witches on our list when we saw him in the hall. He started running away from us when we asked him a question, so we followed him. When we found him, he was sitting in that corner, chanting something. Sakaki shot him and the guy seemed surprised when the shot hit him." She shrugged. "'Course, I couldn't blame him--I was kind of surprised too."

"Yeah, whatever . . ." Sakaki rolled his eyes. "Anyway, then the guy jumped out the window."

Robin's eyes widened slightly. Rising to her feet, she peeked out the window to find a fire escape. "Did he get away?"

"Yeah. We started to follow him, but he used his craft to charge the metal with electricity."

Nodding, Robin wondered aloud, "It seems strange that he escaped in that direction. I thought this circle was meant as a ward against anything coming in through the window, but what if it was merely meant to guard an escape route? Did you explore the alley down there?"

"Somewhat," Sakaki replied. "There's a huge puddle that fills half of it."

Without another word, Robin lifted her bulky skirts to her knees and crawled out through the window. Doujima followed after a moment of wide-eyed surprise at Robin's unusual lack of modesty. "C'mon, Haruto," Doujima called.

"I'll meet you guys down there," Sakaki sighed, turning to the door.

"What?"

"I don't like heights." Sakaki disappeared through the doorway.

Rolling her eyes, Doujima followed Robin down the fire escape, muttering something under her breath.

Robin turned her attention back to her search, looking intently for another wheel on the metal or brick of the building as she descended. Sakaki appeared in the alley when they were almost at the bottom, approaching them with a sour expression, his hands in his pockets. As they descended, Robin found the fire escape seemed to have come loose from the wall in a few places near the bottom. Doujima wailed in panic, but Robin simply held on tighter to the railing and crouched down by the symbols she had just discovered written on the brick in chalk.

She was deep in thought examining the circle when Doujima finally lost her balance. The fire escape groaned as it lurched suddenly to the side. A huge splash accompanied by a shriek echoed down the alley as Doujima landed in the middle of the puddle, spraying flecks of mud over Robin who was still hanging from the railing. Sakaki exploded in laughter, though he hadn't been far enough away to avoid getting a handful of mud flecks on his clothing as well. Feeling her grip on the railing loosen, Robin gritted her teeth as her fingers slipped and she landed in the puddle next to Doujima.

-----

An hour later, Robin was looking at herself in a mirror in Doujima's apartment appraisingly. The boot cut jeans and rose-colored t-shirt were not necessarily professional enough for work in her own opinion, but Doujima had assured her they were more than passable. Though the outfit covered almost as much skin as her dress had, the tailored fit of the pants and the tightness of the shirt merely accentuated the fact that she was a female and was growing into her body. It looked strange to see her shape so clearly when she was used to hiding it under the folds of a sack-like dress, but she couldn't say she hated it. In fact, she had to admit it made her feel a little giddy inside to see herself dressed like she had seen other girls her age dress. It made her feel almost . . . normal.

Doujima was watching the change in expressions over her face as she stood to one side of the mirror, trying to hide her expression behind a brush. From the sparkle in her eyes, Robin could assume she was hiding a grin. "You look great, Robin," Doujima finally gushed, unable to hold back. "Amon's going to pass out cold when he sees you."

Robin grimaced. "I'm afraid I've already done that to him once," she murmured, toying with the end of the braid Doujima had wrapped her hair into, grateful Doujima had found an "acceptable" hairstyle which still kept her hair out of her way. "Anyway, we'd better be getting back to the office before everyone starts getting suspicious."

Shrugging, Doujima replied, "Hey, I was _so_ not going back to the office looking like the mud creature from hell. A stop off to change clothes was required, and if they can't understand that, then that's their problem."

They walked out into the living room where Sakaki was slouched on the couch, his arms stretched out on either side of him. He still had a goofy grin plastered on his face--probably because he was replaying the sight of Doujima landing in the mud puddle again in his mind. His smile faded, replaced by astonishment when he saw Robin. Gaping openly at her, he whistled softly through his teeth. "Wow . . . I had no idea." Exactly what he hadn't had an idea about, Robin was unsure.

Doujima grinned. "C'mon," she said, pulling him to his feet by the hood of his jacket. "We've got to get back to the office. Remember the alibi?"

"Yes of course." He squinted her as if she had just called him an idiot . . . which she actually had in a roundabout way. "We called Robin and asked her to check out the symbols in that guy's apartment. When we were heading back to the car afterward, this asshole in a Porsche came zooming down the street straight through a puddle and sprayed the two of you with mud from head to toe. I tried to chase the guy down on my bike for disgracing you, but he got away."

Frowning, Doujima commented, "I don't remember discussing that last part."

"Just improvising," he replied with a grin. "And you can't complain unless you want me to tell the truth and describe in unflattering detail exactly what it looked like when you fell into that puddle. Anyway, after 'the incident,' we stopped off at your apartment so you two could change clothes. Does that about sum it up?"

"Good boy." Doujima patted him on the head. "Now let's go. And Robin!" Robin paused, glancing back at her. "Remember what we talked about. Its time for you to take matters in your own hands. Don't give in to his demands so easily anymore."

"Whose demands?" Sakaki asked in confusion.

"It's girl stuff," Doujima replied with a smirk.

"Hey, I played Final Fantasy X-2," Sakaki replied. "I might be able to understand."

--------

**To Aliora: Thank you! I understand your fear of crossovers because I share it myself. Since you are one of several people who mentioned shying away from my fic because of that fact, I'm wondering if I should adjust my summary a little. I'm glad to hear you think I'm developing the AmonxRobin stuff at a good pace. I tend to get excited and start rushing things when I first write stories, so it's reassuring to hear I'm not doing it. I'm also glad you enjoyed the game references. Amen to the horror of FFX minigames. We must all share our trauma. I've finally finished going to therapy, but sometimes I see a red butterfly and I just lose control. ;)**

To Miuixtli: I just realized that I never submitted a review to your fic though I really enjoyed it. I'll have to do that soon. I'm glad you're enjoying my story. Don't worry, we'll get more AmonxRobin closeness soon. Hee hee hee . . .

To Busoshwe: I agree with your assessment of Michael (Roy Dupuis) and his sexy accent. I only caught random episodes of it when it was on and never got to see things in order. One of my friends is buying the DVDs though which allows me the pleasure of seeing more of it. I also _totally_ understand the need to search for things on the Internet which have nothing to do with finding a job. I graduated in December '02 and I didn't find a full-time job until a month or two ago. Not to depress you or anything! My degree is in Graphic Design which has been a really difficult field to get jobs in lately. But things are definitely looking better. And don't worry about scaring anybody by reviewing at 4am. You don't sound nearly as incoherent as I probably would be at that time.

To Lizalou42: Hey, you seem familiar somehow. Don't I know you? JK. Thanks for reviewing, beta reader o' mine.

To Sesshoumarusgirl123: Thank you! I'll keep updating as often as I can.

To Cali1043: Thanks for the encouragement! I enjoy getting reviews from you all the time.

To Pyrosa: It's great to hear from another Dante fan. I was worried no one would be able to appreciate the Devil May Cry stuff since fanfiction.net isn't set up to be very conducive to crossovers. (I'm still in shock that I'm writing one . . . sigh) I wasn't planning on putting Lucia in simply because I kind of see this story taking place somewhere between the two games. And I'm not really sure how I would fit her in anyway. I'm open to cool ideas though. As far as Dante and Robin flirting goes . . . it's strange because I had more of that in mind before I started writing, but they ended up interacting in a totally different way. That's why we have to do case studies on characters, watch them interact and gain test samples in order to--what the hell did I just say? Anyway, we'll just have to see what kind of situations crop up in the future to further annoy Amon, though I don't know if it will necessarily be in the form of Robin and Dante flirting. But Amon's just so fun to annoy in so many ways.

**Oh, and I'm not sure if you meant the "grammar and spelling" remark sarcastically or not, but it reminded me to take the opportunity to ask in case anyone knows, how do you upload without having to change all the letters with accents and such? Every time I upload, I have to go through and replace all the smart quotes with inch marks and all the em dashes with two hyphens. It's starting to get annoying. And I invariably miss a word like facade or naive and find crazy looking characters in place of the letters with accents. There must be an easier way! I feel stupid that I don't know!**


	12. The Boss is Back & You're in Trouble

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter contains angst and evidence of primary stages of the Duncan Syndrome. What is the Duncan Syndrome, you ask? Well, I'll explain it to you in layman's terms (since that's all there really is for it anyway). The syndrome is named after a certain angsty immortal who is the main character in Highlander: the Series. Duncan MacLeod, the patient in question, exhibits incredible amounts of angst over past sins and regret over things which are not entirely his fault. He has a strict moral code and tends to divide the world into good and evil. He takes the responsibility fully upon his shoulders to protect all the good in the world and personally destroy the evil. When he fails to do one or the other, he becomes broody, inconsolably guilt-ridden and occasionally even self-destructive. Sound familiar to anyone? Does it describe many a favorite broody hero character?**

**Now, Amon doesn't necessarily fit the description entirely, but he does exhibit some symptoms of the syndrome--such as dividing the world into good and evil, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera . . . **

**Yet, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm wondering if I should rename the Duncan Syndrome the "Arrowin Syndrome," since I have created a character in my original fiction (named Arrowin, duh) that pretty much epitomizes the syndrome in every way. Ah, but that question is for another time, I suppose. Enjoy the chapter. **

Chapter 12

The Boss is Back and You're Gonna be in Trouble

Rubbing his shoulder where Zaizen had thrown him against the wall, Michael plodded down the stairs from the Director's office with a surly expression twisting his face. He was going to have a few bruises from Zaizen's punishment for--well, he wasn't really sure why he had been punished, but he supposed it didn't really matter. Zaizen was the one in control here, and if he wanted to continue living, he had to suck it up and keep his mouth shut. Muttering to himself about the unfairness of it all, he heard a soft shuffle of feet and looked up in surprise to see Amon standing in the middle of the office with a woman Michael had never seen before thrown over his shoulder.

Karasuma peeked out from behind Amon. "Michael?" Michael turned the bruised side of his face away from the light, but he wasn't quick enough. "Are you hurt?"

"I t-tripped on the stairs," he bit off.

She touched his face gently before he could evade her and she cried out in shock and dismay. He pulled away from her roughly and headed for his desk. He knew she had just scryed him. She had seen exactly what had happened in that office. "Michael!" she cried. "What--"

"Don't say it!" Michael snapped back, feeling hot tears filling his eyes as he slumped down his chair and reached for his earphones, determined to forget the experience as quickly as possible. He glanced over at Amon who was staring off into the shadowy corner of the office with an expression of what looked like panic. Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Michael looked closer at the man. He'd never seen such an expression on Amon's face before. Turning on his heel, Amon headed for the elevator without a word, still carrying the unconscious woman.

"Amon?" Karasuma inquired in confusion.

"What is the meaning of this?" Zaizen's words froze everyone in their tracks as he appeared at the doorway which led up to his office. "Amon. Who--" His eyes widened and fury crossed his features like a swiftly moving storm. "Touko?!"

Amon did not move. Michael strained in his chair so that he could just make out the "deer in the headlights" look on the enigmatic hunter's face, which was also an expression he had never seen Amon make before. He then returned his gaze to Zaizen who was still glowering so angrily Michael swore he could see the steam rising off of him.

"She fainted," Karasuma explained calmly, though Michael knew from what Robin had told him on the phone that Touko had most likely had some assistance in losing consciousness.

"Then put her down on the couch," Zaizen stated as if his solution was so obvious it would take an idiot not to think of it. "Don't just keep carrying her around like a sack of potatoes." Amon did as he was told expressionlessly, crossing the room to the couch. Zaizen helped him situate Touko and cursed when he placed her head on the pillow. Glaring accusatorily at Amon, he growled, "There's a huge bump on the back of her head."

Amon simply stared back at him, still without expression, his face incredibly pale. Karasuma answered for him once again, lying so smoothly Michael wanted to believe her despite the fact he knew it was a fabrication. "She hit her head on a chair when she fainted. Amon tried to catch her, but he didn't reach her in time."

Zaizen stood up slowly, brushing his coat off. "Always too late, aren't you Amon? At least anymore. And where have you been while this 'demon hunter' Michael told me about has been infiltrating the office?"

Michael cringed at the way Zaizen made it sound as if he had volunteered the information. Amon continued to remain silent, his face a mask. Karasuma opened her mouth again to answer. "Amon's been--"

"Can he not answer for himself?!" Zaizen barked and Karasuma jumped. He seemed so human as he glanced down at Touko and smoothed her hair away from her face tenderly. But when he looked back up at Amon, the darkness in his eyes seemed almost demonic. "In my office. Now." He turned on his heel, obviously expecting Amon to follow.

Amon watched him go for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Amon," Karasuma whispered, but he ignored her, loosening the fists his hands had turned into and following the Director up the stairs, his strides a little shaky.

"There goes punching bag number two," Michael muttered. "Fresh out of the hospital too . . ."

"Michael," Karasuma began, turning to face him with anxiety, "How long has--"

"Please," Michael interrupted with anger entering his voice, "I really don't want to talk about it."

Silence fell as Karasuma struggled with the temptation to find another way to phrase her question and frame her concerns. Then, the elevator door opened and Sakaki and Doujima spilled out, arguing about something unimportant, as usual. Michael had to do a double take when he saw the girl following along behind them. "Robin?!" Warm green eyes met his own as he looked on in amazement, and he knew for certain it was her. "Wow . . ." He found himself at a loss for words.

"My, don't you look cute," Karasuma complimented, stopping Robin with a light touch on her shoulder so she could look at her. "What's the occasion?"

"Some jerk in a Porsche couldn't slow down long enough to avoid the puddle on the side of the road," Doujima replied, smiling tightly. "We were both soaked with mud. Rescue clothes were required."

"I see." Karasuma glanced with a raised eyebrow. "That must have been quite the adventure."

Michael saw Robin cross the room toward him and hid the bruised side of his face quickly, leaning against his hand, elbow propped up on his desk. He returned her gaze with a smile as she approached, unable to get over her new appearance, and tried desperately to come up with something intelligent to say. That queasy feeling of excitement washed over him again as she came to a stop in front of him, followed quickly by disappointment when she spoke. "Is Amon here, Michael?" She seemed vaguely worried, and he wondered if she was worried about Amon's absence or worried about his possible presence.

"Yeah," Doujima joined in with a wink, overhearing her. "I can't wait to see the look on Amon's face when he sees Robin." Pouting, she added, "I kind of missed his expression at the party . . . but I think he was a little distracted at the time anyway."

Karasuma exchanged a somber look with Michael. "He may still be a bit distracted." She nodded in the direction of the couch.

Doujima hid behind Sakaki when she saw Touko. "Whoa, shouldn't we be doing something about her? Like tying her up or something? I think I kind of pissed her off last time I saw her and . . . I'm too young to die!"

"I don't think tying her up would be such a good idea," Michael commented sourly. "Not unless you want to get next in line for Zaizen's office. I think Amon's currently paying for the bump on the back of her head." He knew he shouldn't have said it out loud, but he also knew that most of them probably didn't have a clue what he was really talking about. Scratching his head, he added softly, "Though I don't know how the Director even knows Touko, or why he cares . . . not that it matters anyway. The end result is pretty much the same." Robin's eyebrows had furrowed as she listened to him, giving him the uneasy suspicion she had seen the bruise he was trying to hide.

"Well, this is all just great!" Doujima sulked. "I'm going out." She reached for her purse.

Suddenly the phone rang, interrupting Michael's thoughts as he desperately searched for an excuse for his bruise, knowing Robin was working herself up to asking the question. Dante was at the other end of the line when he picked it up. "Hey, Mike, could you send someone down to open the door for us? Trish and I are almost to your office."

"Um . . ." Michael gazed off toward Zaizen's office before replying. "I don't think you want to come by here right now. The Director just got back and he's . . . well he's not too happy with us for letting you in without authorization. Anyway, maybe everybody could meet you somewhere?"

"Sure. I guess . . . You have someplace in mind?"

"There's this place everyone hangs out at a lot. It's called Harry's . . ." After Michael had given Dante directions and they had hung up, he looked up at his companions who were all watching him intently--all except for Robin who was now looking anxiously at the stairs to Zaizen's office. "He says he's on his way to Harry's. I hope it was all right for me to suggest it. . ."

Karasuma shrugged. "We certainly can't meet him here."

"And he knows more about this witch than we do," Sakaki added.

"Well, we'd better get going," Doujima chanted eagerly in a singsong voice, already halfway to the door. "You guys coming?"

"Someone should stay behind and wait for Amon . . ." Robin murmured.

"I'll be here," Michael reminded her, wishing more than anything that he could go with them. It was so frustrating to always be the one left behind.

"Robin," Doujima said firmly. "Remember what we talked about?"

"I know, but . . ." Doujima's glare stopped her. Finally, Robin nodded in submission, rising to her feet slowly and following after Doujima. _What was that all about?_ Michael wondered.

Sakaki trailed after the two not far behind, but Karasuma hesitated, turning to Michael. Feeling a blush on his cheeks, Michael looked away. "Michael . . . if you need anything . . . just let me know. Okay?" Michael nodded silently.

Turning up his music when he was alone again, Michael tried to drown out his memories, focusing on scouring the Internet for more clues on their target witch's whereabouts. According to what Zaizen had mentioned in between blows, his summons to HQ had actually concerned the witch they were already hunting, and he had returned so quickly because they wanted him on the scene with all the information. This witch was even more dangerous than they had thought it seemed, and they needed to catch her before all hell broke loose--literally.

A few minutes after everyone had left, Michael heard footsteps stomping down the steps and glanced up to see Zaizen cross the room to Touko. He knelt down beside her and murmured something to her inert form before scooping her up in his arms and heading for the elevator. Michael was relieved to see the Director was completely ignoring him.

But where was Amon? Worry ate at Michael's resolve to not care too much about their unapproachable leader, but his anger at Amon's treatment of Robin was not enough to keep him from sympathizing with the man. He knew all too well what a power trip Zaizen got out of abusing his underlings. Besides, Amon had been receiving the abuse almost as long as Michael had, and that common suffering had created a kind of bond between them in the past.

He had almost convinced himself to run up to the office just to make sure Amon was still alive considering the length of time he had been missing, when he heard soft footsteps making their way down the stairs . . . with a limp. Michael stopped typing, pulling his earphones out of his ears and watching the doorway intently. Amon finally exited, his eyes downcast, his hair a tangled mess and blood trailing down his chin from a cut on his lip. He threw a glance in the direction of the couch where Touko had been laying before sighing with relief. Touching his lip gingerly to see if it was still bleeding, he looked up at Michael, his eyes even darker than normal.

"Where did Karasuma go?" Amon inquired without a hint of inflection in his voice, sliding his hands through his hair and attempting to put it in order.

"To Harry's with everyone else."

Amon's eyes narrowed. "Are they celebrating something?"

Michael winced. He hadn't even expected that conclusion, though he knew how Amon felt. Zaizen had just torn his pride into little tiny pieces and stomped around on them while the rest of his coworkers had wandered off to a bar to have a drink and relax? It was an easy assumption to make when you felt lower and more abused than a doormat. "No. They went there so they could meet with Dante and plan their next move in finding Beatrice." Michael knew the real explanation wouldn't make Amon much happier than his false assumption, but he decided truth was the best option anyway.

Amon's expression was hard to read as he looked away, pain burning in his eyes. "Hmm. I suppose I'm not really needed then. That's good. It will give me a chance to go home and take a shower." He glanced down at his rumpled clothes and emotions raged across his face for a moment before he regained control. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"They _do_ need you," Michael said resolutely suddenly, surprising even himself. He wasn't sure what inspired him to attempt putting Amon back together right now, but he suspected it had something to do with the fact that it scared the shit out of him to think Amon--Amon, of all people--could be falling apart like this. Amon was generally as unchanging and unflappable as a rock, but something had fractured him recently, and the cracks were spreading wider. Michael decided he needed Amon to be a rock. His stubbornness and coldness might be annoying at times, but if Amon was turning into quicksand then something was no longer right with the world. It was Michael's responsibility to keep the world from coming unhinged. It was his duty to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. All the same, he thought it might be best to keep the childhood rhyme analogy to himself.

Amon was looking at him curiously. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh come on, Amon! You're the glue that holds this group together. You know that. Without you they lack direction and leadership. They look up to you, and trust you to make the important decisions when no one else can--because they believe in you."

Shaking his head slightly, Amon replied, "I don't know what they're believing in, Michael." He turned slowly toward the door.

Remembering the comment he had made to Robin on the phone about wanting to replace Amon with Dante, Michael felt an intense wave of guilt. What a hypocrite he was. "Still . . ." he said, uncertain how to convince Amon when he had judged him so harshly himself, "you should go to Harry's. They're expecting you to come. They won't make any final decisions without you."

Amon paused in his progress toward the door. "Why shouldn't they? They have a leader with them who can direct them just as easily."

Desperately, Michael pulled out the last card in his hand, knowing it would hurt him to say, but knowing it was what Amon needed to hear. His voice was soft in the silence as he observed, "Robin will be sad if you don't come. And she will be worried about you." Amon didn't look convinced as he glanced back at him. "I was kind of jealous of you for awhile, you know. I kept hoping Robin felt the same way about me as I've been beginning to feel about her, but I'm starting to realize that Robin doesn't care for me as anything other than a friend. But you . . . she worships the ground you walk on."

"I think . . ." Amon sighed, his voice sounding ragged, "that you may have been right about that at one time. But, now I think she's finally learning the ground isn't so sacred after all. It's a good thing she's finally coming to her senses." He glanced back over his shoulder again, though this time his face was too shadowed for Michael to read. "It may not be as impossible as you think for her to care for you." Slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat, he continued walking toward the elevator. "Goodnight, Michael."

Michael frowned as Amon's dark form disappeared. This wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. The world was coming unhinged and he had failed to stop it.

-------

**Incidentally, the lie Karasuma made up about Touko fainting and hitting her head on a chair was something that actually happened to me. Let me tell you, the bump on the back of my head hurt like hell too. **

**Thanks for reading. Next chapter coming soon--though I haven't decided on a name for it yet. I look forward to reading your reviews! Feedback is very useful to me, so continue to feel free to let me know what you think, positive or negative.**

**Until next time! **


	13. Eat at Harry's

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry I've been a little slow in getting this chapter up. I've been really tired this week during the brief periods of time I've had to actually work on writing, so most of what I wrote sounded like gibberish--or Al Bhed for FFX fans out there. (One of my friends and I used to speak in gibberish occasionally and call it Al Bhed. Then we actually made up our own little language called Jalapanous. Still don't know how that one got started, but all I really remember is that "Sti fre min" translated as "It's fresh and minty.") Anyway, it was as if I'd completely lost my grasp of the English language this week. So, you'll have to excuse me if I missed any big mistakes in my revising of this chapter. Oh, in case anyone is wondering why I randomly threw in some suffixes with names in this chapter when I haven't been using them before, I don't know myself. Somehow I just couldn't see Michael or Robin calling Karasuma by her name alone, but "Miss Karasuma" just sounds weird. Anyway . . . I should be getting the next chapter posted sometime later this weekend. Enjoy!**

Chapter 13

Eat at Harry's

"And then what happened?" Sakaki demanded, resting his elbows on the table and cupping his chin in his palms as he leaned toward Dante avidly. In a moment of immaturity, Karasuma was unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the rookie's veneration of the demon hunter.

"Well, I heard this voice speaking in my head talking about giving my heart and swearing eternal loyalty, or whatever," Dante continued, seeming to enjoy the attention. "Then, this huge sword came flying out of the wall like a rocket and landed right here." He tapped his chest with a serious expression. "Pinned me to the frickin' floor."

"It went through you?" Sakaki's jaw had dropped nearly to his shoes.

"Yeah. Damn sadistic sword." Dante shrugged. "I had to pull myself off the frickin' thing before I could pry it out of the ground." He rubbed his chest thoughtfully with the memory--the supposed memory, Karasuma reminded herself. Dante's stories were obviously exaggerations of the truth, tales made up to inspire adoration in his new fan following. Most of them were hardly even possible, let alone plausible. "Wasn't exactly the most pleasurable experience I've ever had," Dante added with a grin.

"And what would be the _most_ pleasurable experience you've ever had, Dante?" Doujima asked, leaning even farther over the table than Sakaki. The question drew Sakaki's annoyed attention to her, causing Karasuma to smile at his sudden jealousy. It seemed Sakaki wasn't the only one caught up in Dante hype.

"Hmm . . . I'm sure _that_ would be a hard one to pin point, wouldn't it, Dante?" the leggy, leather-clad woman Dante had introduced as his partner asked with a wicked smile. Karasuma wasn't entirely sure what to think of the woman, but it was obvious to her that--as she had already surmised from their phone converasations--Trish and Dante were more than just business partners.

"I suppose it would, though I'm not sure you would know about it." Dante returned his partner's smile thinly, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Really . . ."

"Anyway," Dante continued, "That's why you have to be careful of possessed weapons. Most of them have majorly bad attitudes. Reminds me of when I first met Ifrit."

"Has he been talking like this since you met him?" Trish asked Karasuma suddenly in a conspiratorial whisper, hiding her face from Dante with a cascade of golden hair.

"When Sakaki encourages him," Karasuma replied with a smile. "Which is almost constantly. He seems to think Dante is 'cool enough to be a video game character.'"

Trish hid a chuckle behind her hand. "Well, I'll put our misery to an end for the night." She crossed her legs slowly and leaned back in her chair languidly. Sakaki was gaping at her, and Karasuma thought she might have seen drool at the corner of his mouth. Dante had also been slightly distracted by her movement, and his blue eyes were burning as they watched her stretch her arms back over her head. Sakaki nearly fell off his chair. "So," she said with a sigh, "Are we through strategizing for the night? I'm feeling rather sleepy." She feigned a yawn, meeting Dante's stare with daring in her blue eyes.

Harry paused by their table. "Can I get you anything else?" he inquired softly.

"No, thanks," Dante replied with a grin. "I think we're done here."

"Yeah," Doujima agreed, drawing Sakaki's attention again as she yawned and stretched as well, mimicking Trish's movements subconsciously. "I'm sleepy."

"We have a lot of work to do tomorrow, so we should all probably call it a night," Karasuma agreed.

Looking in the direction of the door with an odd expression, Robin commented to no one in particular. "I wonder why he never showed up. . ." Karasuma glanced at the girl in sympathy. She'd known for quite some time that Robin had it bad for her partner despite the way he spent most of his time ignoring her--not to mention the fact that it would be illegal for anything to happen between them in the first place. She felt pity for Robin because this crush would probably be her first heartbreak, yet she also knew there was little she could do about it. If Robin could fall in love so completely with someone as cold and distant as Amon--no matter how physically attractive he was, his attitude definitely got in the way--then she was more than capable of ignoring any advice Karasuma might give her. It was a lesson she would only learn by making the mistake.

Dante shrugged into his overcoat as he rose to his feet, responding to Robin's question quietly. "I hate to break it to you, babe, but I don't think Rambo likes me too much." Karasuma repressed a smile at the nickname Dante had started using for Amon.

"Oh, he's just jealous," Sakaki said dismissively. "Amon's used to being the bad ass around here. But I'd like to see him get impaled by a sword in the chest and live to tell about it!" Karasuma shot him a disapproving look, but, to her annoyance, Sakaki failed to notice.

"Still, it's weird for Amon to miss a strategy meeting," Doujima mused, blinking sleepily as she leaned against Sakaki to keep herself upright, much to Sakaki's delight..

"Maybe that's not how he thought of it," Karasuma pointed out. "This was an unofficial strategy meeting, after all. And the last couple of days have been rough on him, though he tries to act as if nothing's happened. I swear, he'd better be at home resting right now, because if his stupidity in escaping from the hospital without being released comes back to haunt him, I'm not going to be feeling sorry for him."

Karasuma felt Robin turn her attention to her. "He wasn't released from the hospital?"

"Typical male macho syndrome," Karasuma replied, shaking her head.

Trish elbowed Dante in the ribs. "Sounds like someone I know." Looking up at him, she commented, "I can't count how many times I've had to use a yellow orb to get you back on your feet." _Yellow orb?_ Karasuma wondered. _It must be an inside joke._

"Yeah, well, you've kicked me when I was down a few times too," Dante replied with a wry expression, turning and waving over his shoulder as he walked away. "Sleep well everyone. I know I'm going to."

"If you sleep at all . . ." Trish murmured with a grin as she traced a slender fingertip down Dante's spine, her long hair swinging behind her as she followed him to the door. "Nice to meet you all!" she added as they disappeared down the hallway.

Sakaki and Doujima trailed after them, waving as they went, but Karasuma hesitated, glancing down at Robin as the girl continued to sit forlornly at the now empty table. Placing a hand on Robin's shoulder with a sigh, she asked, "Are you all right, Robin?"

"I don't know . . ."

She had been about to tell her not to worry about Amon too much when she heard her phone ring. Answering it promptly, she was surprised to hear Michael on the other end of the line. "Yes, Michael? Is something wrong?"

"I was debating about whether I should even call you or not . . . It's probably nothing, but I guess I'm just worried, that's all."

"About what?"

"Did Amon show up at Harry's?"

Karasuma paused, glancing down at Robin and noting the concern in her eyes. Turning away from Robin's rapt attention, she replied tersely, "No. Why?"

Michael sighed. "I kind of figured as much. It's just that . . . he was acting a bit strangely before he left here." Karasuma waited anxiously through another brief pause. "He didn't look so good either."

Karasuma suddenly felt like she had a rock in her stomach. In all her years at STN-J, she had never even suspected anything about Zaizen's dark side until tonight when she had seen that terrible flash of memory as she touched Michael. She'd known Zaizen was demanding to a fault and that he could be cruel at times, but the thought of what she now knew was true because of the images in Michael's mind made her blood run cold. Guilt washed over her as she realized she hadn't truly considered Zaizen might treat Amon with equal abuse until this moment. Somehow, the idea had seemed ridiculous to her simply because she couldn't imagine Amon in that position, but could she trust her own instincts in the area of what Zaizen would and wouldn't do when she had already been proven wrong? "Michael," she said urgently, fear entering her voice, "You don't think--I mean, the Director wouldn't have . . ." She couldn't even say the words, especially not within Robin's hearing when the girl was already so obviously worried

"Oh, I don't think that part's in question," Michael stated, and by his tone of voice, Karasuma knew exactly which way the answer went. Michael laughed nervously. "Amon's going to kill me . . ."

"How badly was he hurt?" Karasuma demanded, suddenly forgetting Robin's presence, her motherly instincts kicking in full force.

"Not that bad," Michael replied quickly, and Karasuma breathed more easily. "I'm more worried about his mental state. He was acting kind of morose. More so than usual, I mean."

"What do you want me to do, then?" She realized her tone had become a little brusque. Amon's sullen behavior was nothing new, and though she was worried about him, she had known him long enough to understand that an attempt to bring him out of one of his dark moods was not worth the effort. He could be relentlessly stubborn when he set his mind to it--and she had already seen that he had set his mind to this particular mood without restraint.

Karasuma heard the chair squeak as she assumed Michael had leaned back in his chair. He sighed. "Nothing, I guess. I just wanted to know if he ever made it to Harry's. It would have made me feel better if he had. But I'm sure I'm overreacting. Knowing him, he'll be back to normal tomorrow. I'm sorry to worry you, Karasuma-san. I shouldn't have called."

"That's okay, Michael." Karasuma was once again aware of Robin's gaze on her back. "I'm glad you told me, but I'm sure you're right. He'll be fine. Just get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." She turned around reluctantly as she hung up the phone, meeting the alarm in Robin's eyes with as calm an expression as she could muster.

"You were talking about Amon, weren't you?" Robin inquired, her vulnerable green gaze begging for honesty.

Karasuma nodded hesitantly. "Yes, but he'll be fine. You really shouldn't worry about him so much. He's survived much worse before."

Robin bit her lower lip and her gaze dropped to her knees. "Zaizen hurt him, didn't he? I saw the bruise Michael was trying to hide, and the way he was talking about Zaizen implied that he . . . well that he--"

"It's none of our business, Robin," Karasuma interrupted firmly. "Michael said Amon would be fine."

"Then why did he call?"

"Robin . . ." Karasuma didn't have a clue how to answer her. Robin was simply too perceptive for her own good.

Luckily, Robin did not wait for an answer before asking yet another question, looking up at her imploringly. "Karasuma-san, do you know where Amon lives?"

Not a question she wanted to hear. Reluctance crossing her features, Karasuma replied, "Yes . . . but--"

"Please, could you give me a ride there?"

"Robin, I don't think that would be wise. He clearly wants to be alone right now."

"He always wants to be alone," Robin answered with sudden determination, "but I don't think that's such a healthy thing to want."

Karasuma observed her thoughtfully for several long moments, trying to decide if it was Robin's fascination with Amon that was driving her right now or if it was truly just worry. "You may be right, but I don't think you'll be able to change his mind on that point." She paused and sat down slowly in the chair next to the craft user. "Robin, I know you care for him, but I really don't think it's a good idea to attempt getting involved with him."

Robin frowned, and her eyes burned with hurt; Karasuma's statement had clearly offended her. "That's not what I'm attempting," she stated clearly. "He's just been acting so strangely lately. Even though he might not appreciate my concern, I _am_ worried about him." She swallowed before adding quietly, "I can't help feeling partly responsible for whatever happened to him. I am the one who brought Dante into all of this, after all. Amon was against it from the beginning. I deserved the punishment, not him. I owe him an apology."

Karasuma hated the fact that she was beginning to consider Robin's request. Though she had almost convinced herself Amon would be just fine, something about the uneasiness she had heard in Michael's voice kept her from completely banishing her worries. And the look in Robin's eyes was steadily melting her resolve. Sighing softly, she rose to her feet and started heading for the door, hoping she wouldn't regret her decision. "Let's go. If anyone could get away with interrupting his solitude it would be you. Amon acts tough most of the time, but occasionally he gives in to you--which is more than he gives in to anyone else."

They didn't really speak to each other on the way to Amon's apartment building, and Karasuma did her best to keep her mind from straying to thoughts of how Amon was going to kill her for giving in to Robin's appeal. Glancing over at the girl in the seat next to her as she pulled up in front of the building, Karasuma noted the determination in Robin's features and hoped it would be enough. "We're here," she stated. "He lives in number 503, as I recall. I've only been there once, and then so briefly I'm surprised I remember at all." She paused, meeting Robin's gaze with worry. "You're sure you don't want me to come up with you?"

"Yes," Robin nodded bravely, venturing a small smile. "He is my partner after all. I don't need an escort."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. He's just been so odd lately . . ." Biting her lower lip, she added, "I'll wait down here for you."

"You don't have to do that, Karasuma. We're actually pretty close to my place right now. I can walk home."

"It's cold tonight, and all you have on is that short-sleeved shirt. I'll wait. Knowing Amon, it probably won't be long."

"I don't intend to let him shoo me away. I intend to get to the bottom of his strange behavior. I don't want you to have to wait. I'll be all right."

Conceding reluctantly, Karasuma sighed. "Okay . . . If you're sure." _But I'll wait ten minutes anyway, just in case he refuses to see her. I hope she knows what she's doing._

Smiling warmly, Robin said, "Thank you again for the ride."

Karasuma merely nodded in response as Robin slipped out of the car and began walking to the apartment. "Maybe you shouldn't be thanking me, Robin," she murmured to herself before glancing at the clock and sitting back to wait.

-------

**To Pyrosa: You know what? I think you read my mind. Combine number one and two of your suggestions and you have a quirky scene I've already written for a later chapter. Either I'm predictable, or we think alike. "It's almost like we have one brain that we share between us." Sorry, couldn't help but throw in a little "Mighty Wind" quote there. Haven't worked chocobos in yet, but you never know. Anyway, as for Robin healing Amon's pain: next chapter coming soon. smiles mysteriously**

**To Cali1043: Drama's so much fun in stories--not so much in real life--but I'm glad you're enjoying it as much as I am.**

**To Hexes: I wonder if Capcom would be willing to pay me some cash for promoting their games? Maybe I should throw in some Viewtiful Joe references in the next chapter. Yeah, Dante had far more personality in the first game (rather cheesy personality, but somehow you just can't help but like it) and he used the word "baby" several times I believe. I think I sort of exaggerated it though, and I changed it to "babe" because for some reason "baby" bugs me. Also, I think I might have been influenced by _Captain Ron_****, an early 90's movie with Kurt Russell and Martin Short that I always enjoyed. Random, I know.**

**To just4ubaby: Sorry that Amon didn't show up at Harry's, but you might like what happens next even better.**

**To Ann: Thank you! I'm glad I could overcome your hatred of crossovers. More, ahem, "give and take" between Amon and Robin coming up. So to speak . . . **

**To busoshwe: I totally had to deal with relatives nagging when I was searching for a job. That was the worst part, I'd have to say because there was always so much pressure and so many expectations. I'll keep you in mind for financing in the future. :) As for your questions about Zaizen, we will get to see into his head a bit in a chapter coming up--I actuallygaspwrote a short scene from his point of view. But why am I acting so shocked anyway . . . I usually _like_**** writing from bad guys' pt of view. Silly me.**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Thank you for the compliments. I'm a bit of a perfectionist about somecoughmostcough things and I try hard to make my chapters consistent. It's good to hear I'm succeeding for the most part. But I think you're being too hard on yourself. And I hope you're feeling better now--we know what fevers can do to people. :) Besides, being sick sucks. **

**To Beautiful Witch Hunter Robin: Thanks! That sounds like a pretty scary injury you had there. At least I wasn't bleeding when I hurt my head that time. **


	14. Reflex Point

**Author's note:**

**Well, kids, here it is. Gratuitous shower scene--not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter. Actually, it's not so gratuitous, I suppose. But I hope this chapter makes you AmonxRobin fans out there giggly with excitement. In case anyone is afraid to continue reading or thinking I should change my rating, this chapter is not citrus in content, unless you're talking about the pulp in Sheridan's orange juice.**

**Sheridan: Yeah, I love OJ with the pulp left in. I remember sitting out in my dad's orchards and--**

**Sinclair: Oh, enough already. You'd do a lot better with some fiber. My bran flakes here--**

**Author: Both of you, shut yer yaps! (Did I just become Kid from Chrono Cross?) This is a WHR and Devil May Cry fic, not a Babylon 5 parody. Get back to your universe! Anyway, I think AmonxRobin fans will enjoy the chapter nonetheless, even if they were wanting some fruity content. The intensity level is still high, and Robin has grown a bit of a backbone.**

**Robotech Announcer: Are you going to get on with it, or are you just going to keep rambling on and on? Even I don't ramble that much . . .**

**Author: Wanna bet? But, I suppose I _should_**** stop rambling and just let you people read. **

**PS Robotech fans may recognize the title of this chapter from the Mospeada series. This chapter really has absolutely no connection to Robotech, but the title, out of context, fits strangely enough.**

Chapter 14

Reflex Point

Letting the scalding hot water pound against his aching body, Amon leaned against the wall of the shower with his eyes closed, trying desperately to regain his sense of balance and control. The heat of the water had already numbed his skin, temporarily erasing the pain of bruises scattered all over his body. Unfortunately, it couldn't numb the shame and anger that went along with them. Zaizen was unusually brutal in his beating tonight, perhaps taking out some of his frustration with headquarters along the way. Amon had a feeling the marks left behind would last longer than normal.

He shut off the water when he felt exhaustion tempt him toward sleep due to the warmth and the droning sound of the shower. Standing in the steam for a few moments before opening the door and reaching for a towel, he found his mind wandering. A pair of confused and hurt green eyes came to mind, but he shook the memory away with annoyance, consequently scattering droplets of water across the room. Robin was angry with him, and rightly so, but he wasn't so certain how true his words to Michael about the change in her feelings for him were. She was persistent, if nothing else, and even though he wanted to believe she had thought better of her attraction to him, he knew she was more difficult to shake than that. He could only hope his encouragement of Michael's interest would divert her. Amon had suspected the hacker had feelings for Robin for some time, but now he was forced to take advantage of them. Damn Zaizen.

Distracting himself with drying off and wringing most of the water out of his hair, he managed to keep his mind empty until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was shocked by how haggard he looked. The past forty-eight hours had clearly taken their toll on him. The drug Touko gave him had utterly drained his system even before Zaizen decided to beat the shit out of him, and now the emotional impact of the day's events was catching up with him as well. As much as he struggled to keep his emotions locked away in a place where even he couldn't find them, his physical weakness was making him emotionally weak as well. It was a very good thing he had opted for coming straight home instead of stopping off at Harry's. He couldn't be certain what kind of stupidity he might have been condemned to by seeing Robin with his inhibitions and reasoning still torn to shreds. He might just have found himself following Zaizen's orders despite his better judgment, simply because he was drunk with fatigue.

Wandering into his bedroom, he snatched a pair of khaki cargo pants out of his closet along with a black shirt. He had barely gotten a foot in one leg of the pants before he heard a knock on the door and froze. Very few people knew where he lived, and even fewer chose to visit him. Touko was the only one lately who ever showed up on his doorstep unexpectedly. Pulling the pants on quickly and dropping his shirt on a nearby chair as he reached for his orbo gun, he crossed the living room silently.

He hadn't been sure what to expect when he looked out the peephole, but the sight that greeted him on the other side of the door was the last thing he had expected . . . or wanted. Not only was Robin standing there in his hallway, but also she was wearing an outfit he was certain he'd seen Doujima wearing in the past. It hugged her slim form in a way that was definitely unhealthy for his control, and he groaned inwardly at his luck. _Fuck._ The fates were conspiring against him.

-------

The apartment building was well maintained and seemed to be fairly new. The walls were painted a light grey and the carpeting was a darker shade of charcoal. _How fitting for Amon_, she thought, observing all the shades of grey. As she approached the door labeled 503 with a sense of trepidation, her heart started pounding like the bass beat in one of the techno songs she had heard at her one and only party. Breath caught in her throat and her hand trembling, she rapped her knuckles against the door several times and suppressed the temptation to bolt for the stairs. She rarely sought out confrontation, unless her heart told her it was necessary. At the moment, her heart was overriding her fear and convincing her that a confrontation with her partner could not be avoided. His actions were no longer just affecting her, and someone needed to talk to him. But if a confrontation was necessary, she would much rather get it out of the way as soon as possible; hence the reason she had come here tonight instead of waiting until the next day.

Time crept by as she waited, hearing the thumping of her heart in her ears and feeling sweat dampen her palms. Surely he was home. She could judge by what she'd heard of Karasuma's conversation that he had left the office already. But what if something terrible had happened to him on the way home? What if the witch they were after had attacked him--or worse yet, Touko had revived and was still under the influence of the witch they were hunting--

She must have made quite the picture of panic with the thoughts flying through her head when Amon opened the door, but all thought processes stalled out instantly when she saw him standing there, grey eyes narrowed with fury, his hair hanging damply around his shoulders--around his _bare_ shoulders. Unable to stop her reaction though she knew it made her sheltered upbringing all too obvious, her eyes wandered down over his chest and abdomen, amazed by the unfamiliar masculine musculature until they reached the waistband of his dark grey cargo pants before looking abruptly away, heat flooding her face. She attempted desperately to remember why she had come and all the things she had intended to say, refusing to allow his appearance to overwhelm and distract her from her determination.

He spoke first, his voice weary with irritation. "Robin. What are you doing here? How did you--"

"I was worried about you," she answered quickly, still keeping her eyes focused on the hallway to her left, unable to look at him. "I asked Karasuma if she knew where you lived, and I convinced her to bring me here."

"For what purpose?" he asked coldly.

"Because I wanted to make sure you were okay," she managed after a few abortive attempts to speak which resulted in only silence escaping from her mouth. His aloofness was tinder for the anger she had been unable to fully recover until this moment. It sparked and his next words fanned it into a flame.

"I don't see why."

Setting her jaw resolutely, she met his gaze boldly without even a waver in the direction of his bare chest. "Karasuma said you didn't check out of the hospital--that you just walked out." He did not reply, and her determination wavered. "And . . ." She looked away again with guilt as she continued, "Michael said Zaizen was angry with you. I thought I might have had something to do with his anger. I'm sorry."

"You coerced Karasuma into bringing you all the way over here so you could apologize for something that wasn't your fault in the first place?"

Anger flaring again, she retorted, "I came here because I was worried about you."

"You needn't worry. I'm fine." He sighed and added dryly, "You'd better hurry. Karasuma will probably only be waiting a few more minutes."

"I asked her not to wait."

"She's waiting." The shadow of a wry smirk touched his face. "I'm sure she half expects me to slam the door in your face. She doesn't trust me."

"I think she might trust you more than you trust her . . . or anyone else, for that matter."

"Perhaps." He sighed again, then added with barely controlled impatience, "I'm still listening, Robin. You clearly have something more you want to say. Just say it."

Robin's anger was starting to sour her stomach. How did he always manage to make her feel like an adolescent who had disobeyed and was risking punishment? Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she decided to voice her feelings for once, tired of him abusing her without thought. "Why do you always treat me like that? Like I'm some kind of immature child you have no use for? Like I'm a burden? I've done my best to improve my control over my craft for you. I've followed all your orders and I've done everything I can to contribute to our missions--but nothing is ever enough for you. I'm still a failure in your eyes. I still don't measure up--and I'm beginning to think I never will. You just keep raising the stakes so I never succeed. What will it take to win your respect, Amon?"

Returning her gaze with cool composure, Amon stood in silence for several moments. "Are you finished?" he asked finally as if she had just thrown a temper tantrum.

Looking away from him because she didn't trust herself to keep control over her craft when she was so unbelievably angry, she answered softly, but firmly, "No, I'm not."

Apparently resigning himself to what he saw as her childish behavior since she was refusing to give up easily, he nudged the door open wider with his foot and took a step back from the entrance. She accepted his silent offer to come in, stopping a few steps past him and listening to the sound of the door closing behind her. Surveying the room neutrally, she noted his apartment was not only sparsely decorated, but it also matched his wardrobe. Black, black and more black. Not surprising considering his perfectionistic personality, it was also rather clean and orderly. She couldn't repress a flinch though as she saw a piece of jewelry laying on an end table. She recognized it as belonging to Touko.

When Amon came across her line of sight again, he had his back turned to her and was reaching for a shirt draped over a chair as he dropped his orbo gun onto the end table. She hadn't even realized he'd been armed, though she couldn't say she was necessarily surprised. Taking advantage of her moment free from his discerning gaze, she found herself watching the way his muscles moved beneath his skin as he pulled the shirt over his head, slightly embarrassed by her own fascination. Then, eyebrows creasing, she noticed what she had been too distracted to notice before. A number of bruises darkened the skin in various places around his ribs and back, still fairly faint as if they were either very recent or very old. Her stomach flopped as she connected where they had almost certainly come from. Frowning with concern, she blushed again when she felt his eyes on her though she was still looking at his back, now covered by a thin black shirt. Her gaze found a mirror on the wall he was facing and saw his eyes observing her in the reflection.

Turning away stiffly, she clutched the purse hanging at her waist like a lifeline, wishing for her shapeless dress and layers of clothing to hide beneath instead of the tight fitting shirt and jeans Doujima had insisted she wear. She saw him in her peripheral vision, turned now to face her and leaning back against the wall behind him with his arms crossed over his chest, one bare foot resting against the wall. He was merely watching her with that empty gaze he must have practiced for years to have gotten so good at making, waiting for her to speak. "If you're going to talk, you should get started," he commented. "It's been a long day, and I'm not sure how much patience I have left to deal with this."

She spun to face him directly, so tired of his condescending attitude she wanted to add a few bruises of her own to his body. Then, the reality of that thought hit her and remorse forced her to take a deep breath and calm down a little. "I realize you've had a bad day. I haven't had such a good one myself." _Not that you'd ever step down off your self-absorbed mountain long enough to notice_. "But there are a few things we need to discuss." He merely raised an eyebrow in response, but his eyes were still filled with annoyance.

"First off, we need to talk about Dante. I barely know him myself, but I do know he doesn't mean you any ill will. I'm sorry if you don't like him, or don't trust him, or whatever it is that's causing you to act so strangely around him . . . but he does know more about the witch we're hunting than we do, and the others are willing to work with him. But they don't like working without their leader. And they don't like seeing their leader cutting himself off from them completely, or disregarding his own health."

"Robin," he interrupted impassively. "Did they elect you to speak for them, or are you simply assuming their feelings and framing your own concerns as if they are concerns the others share as well?"

She looked away, feeling tears of anger stinging her eyes. It was true that no one had specifically told her their feelings except for Karasuma who had seemed equally annoyed with Amon as worried about him. As for Michael's opinion, she was only guessing exactly what he had said on his end of the conversation. "Would you rather believe they don't care?" she inquired finally, turning her back on him completely. "Is it easier to ignore us if you convince yourself we'd rather not have you around anyway?"

The sensation of his breath against her neck was enough to make her jump. She hadn't even heard him cross the room. "You're saying 'we' again instead of 'I.'" His voice was suddenly angry and she realized how little patience he had left. You didn't come here because of anyone else's concerns, Robin. You came here because of your own. At least admit that much."

She spun around to face him, startled by his proximity as she nearly bumped into him. Backing away a step when she saw the dark expression in his eyes, she asked in a fragile whisper, "Is that what you want to hear? That I'm the one who was missing you? That I'm the one who was wanting your leadership and company?"

"I don't care what you say, Robin. Just stop hiding behind excuses and be honest. Your feelings are obvious enough." He began to close the distance between them again, though she had a feeling he wasn't doing it because he wanted to be closer to her, but rather because he expected her to move away. He was trying to intimidate her; perhaps so she would simply give up and leave. His intimidation was affecting her to some degree since she did indeed back away, but she refused to leave.

The solidity of the wall pressed against her back, stopping her retreat, and she trembled as he continued to move closer, the darkness in his gaze almost predatory. Her fear making her audacious, she snapped, "If my feelings are so obvious to you, you could at least explain your own to me--because they are far from obvious. If my presence disgusts you as much as you act like it does most of the time, why are you doing this now? And why did you kiss me in the briefing room before you passed out? I don't believe you really don't remember. Especially judging by the way you held me after Touko attacked me."

He stopped, his face inches away from hers and completely bereft of emotion despite the fury in his eyes. His hands were flat against the wall on either side of her shoulders. "You're not going to give up, are you?" he asked, his breath tickling her skin. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, restraining breath before starting to pull away suddenly. She refused to let him get away with yet another swing in behavior. Snatching at his shirt, she pulled him back toward her with all of her strength. His eyes actually widened in surprise at her resolve, though he easily stopped her from pulling him any closer with his hands braced against the wall.

"No, I'm not giving up," she murmured, her eyes narrowed. "I came here for some answers, and you haven't given me a single one. How about a new question? Where did the bruises on your back come from, Amon?"

He stiffened, anger actually burning through his emotionless mask, exerting itself in the set of his jaw and flare of his nostrils. Attempting to pull away from her again, he turned and she clung to him, forcing him to drag her across the floor along with him. Robin winced at the tightness of his grip when he grabbed her wrists and twisted them to loosen her hold on his shirt. "Amon, you're hurting me," she whispered faintly, not really expecting him to care. She was surprised when he jerked his hands away from her wrists reflexively. He looked away from her sharply, eyes unfocused, his breath gasping past his lips as the pulse in his neck spasmed rapidly. Looking at him in amazement, shocked by how deeply she seemed to have affected him, she found her grip on his shirt loosening slowly.

"Michael was right. Zaizen was not happy with me," he murmured so softly she could barely hear his rumble of a voice. She was shocked that he was actually answering her question, at least after a fashion. "He doesn't take disobedience lightly, and I had not followed instructions as well as he wanted. I did not sufficiently protect his daughter from danger, in fact injuring her when I stopped her from doing something she would have regretted."

"Zaizen's daughter?" Robin inquired wonderingly, piecing together what he wasn't saying. "Touko?"

Amon continued as if he had not heard her speak, still looking away. "I protected you when he felt I should have been protecting Touko, but I failed to follow his other orders as well." He dragged his gaze back toward her, and the intensity of emotion in his eyes made her forget to breathe. "He ordered me to seduce you." The words were spoken so softly it took her mind a few moments to make sense of them, but when it had she wished she had been unable to understand them at all.

She felt her heart breaking as she gaped at him in shock, failing to notice that he looked as surprised by his admission as she was. Thoughts flooded through her mind then too quickly for her to think them through clearly. _He only touched me because he was ordered to? He said those things, and acted the way he did because he had no choice, not because he wanted to?_ Tears escaped her eyes and slid over her cheeks, blurring her vision. She stumbled backwards as she tripped on the edge of the coffee table, and would have fallen if he had not reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her closer. Refusing to meet his gaze, she put her palms out between them as a barrier, not allowing him to close the distance again. This was too cruel. She had thought she was beginning to understand him. She thought she knew his heart, at least. But he was not the man she'd thought he was. He was entirely ruthless and utterly uncaring. "Please, don't touch me," she breathed.

"I couldn't seduce you, Robin," he whispered, and the tenderness in his voice made her look up at him. "Not if it meant merely using you and throwing you away. I want you too badly to control my need forever." His voice broke on the last few words and she saw desperation in his eyes and what looked like fear--but fear of what? It couldn't be fear that he had hurt her . . . could it?

"Amon, you . . ." she started to echo his words since she still too stunned to come up with her own response, but his mouth stopped her as it pressed against her own, lips and tongue searching urgently. The taste of him and feel of his lips made her feel weak as she surrendered to his hold on her, unable to fight back when he was pouring out his soul so openly and ardently. He caressed her back as he clutched her more tightly against him, one of his hands slipping beneath the edge of her shirt, his hand icy against her burning skin. Lost in the sensations overwhelming her senses, she felt his damp hair brush against her face and would have shivered if she had been able to move. Finally, when she was lightheaded from lack of air and the feeling of his tongue against her own, he released the strangle hold he had on her mouth and sucked in a breath before trailing fire down her neck with his lips, pausing at her collarbone and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

His words echoed in her mind suddenly. _"I couldn't seduce you, Robin."_ What was he doing now? It certainly felt like seduction to her. Would he go back to his cold, distant ways afterward? Almost certainly. He had not yet proven he was capable of anything between the two extremes. Just as she was struggling against her rebellious body to find a way to stop him--or at least slow him down long enough for her to think--he pulled away suddenly, though not completely. His hands were still resting on her waist, now at the crest of her hips, though his arms were straightened in front of him and he was looking down at their feet, his breath still coming in panting gasps.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have done that." The sincerity in his voice cut off the words she had been about to say. She knew she should pull away from his touch now. She knew she should voice the fears growing inside her. But she couldn't. She wanted this as badly as he claimed he did. Unable to stop herself, she experimentally touched his face, her fingers lightly tracing his cheekbone and sliding down to where his jaw met his neck, teasing the unshaven hair there. "Robin," his voice sounded husky and impossibly deep as he pleaded with her silently to stop.

"You meant it," she whispered in wonderment, wanting to believe what her intuition was telling her. She continued to trace a path down to his collarbone, surprised to find his skin so soft beneath her fingertips. "You meant what you said before you blacked out." He looked up at her, and she was finally able to recognize the emotions filling his eyes as they confirmed her theory.

Gently, he grasped her wrist and moved her hand away from him. "This is wrong. It can't happen again," he said firmly. "Zaizen will use me. You can't let yourself trust me, Robin."

She noticed a cut on his lip which she had not been able to see before, but the flush on his face and the kiss had made it obvious. Sadly, she touched his lips lightly with her free hand. "Why do you let him abuse you?"

He closed his eyes--in pain, she realized, though it was not physical. "Robin, you need to go home." He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead. "I'm too reckless right now." The words were a breathless whisper. Catching her hand in his own, he reached for his keys on the coffee table and pulled her toward a closet near the door. Still holding her hand, he reached into the closet and pulled out a jacket, only releasing her long enough to wrap the coat around her, its baggy folds swallowing her slight form. Reaching for her hand again after pulling on his trench coat, he led her to the door, slipping into a pair of shoes along the way.

Reveling in his continued contact, she was unable to voice her growing fear. _You'll be back to your usual self tomorrow, won't you?_ she wanted to ask. _You'll pretend you never touched me . . . pretend you couldn't care less about me. Just like before._

He turned back to face her before opening the door. "It would be better for you, Robin, if you forgot whatever it is you're feeling for me." Touching her face gently, his eyes so incredibly sad they made her ache inside, he continued, "What you want . . . what we both want right now . . . can never happen. And I will have to be cruel to you again in the future. It's safer for you if Zaizen believes I am still playing his game. So, please, find someone else to care for. Michael would gladly accept your love, and return it as well. He deserves it more than I do." She was stunned by his disclosure of Michael's feelings, but at the moment, she was too overwhelmed by all the other revelations he had thrown at her to give this one equal attention.

He started to turn away, but she caught his sleeve and pulled him back to face her. If the Amon who was speaking to her now was the real one, she didn't want him to disappear again behind his distant facade if she could prevent it in any way. Bravely, she leaned toward him, pushing herself up on her toes and pressing a kiss against his lips, burning the sensation in her memory. His hand, still clasped in her own tightened its grip, and his opposite hand threaded its way into her hair before he regained control again and pushed her insistently away. "No," he whispered, reaching for the doorknob.

She caught his wrist and pleaded, "I don't want to go home, Amon."

"Please, Robin," he begged in response, his voice thick with emotion. "My control is hanging by a thread right now and I'm a breath away from surrendering to you, but it _can't_ happen. You may be too young yet to understand, but one night is not worth a lifetime of regret."

She had not been necessarily thinking as far ahead as he was when she made her plea, yet his response still bothered her. "You would regret it that much?" Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes.

His caught her in his gaze and replied resolutely, "You are worth more than a one night stand, Robin. I refuse to use you in such a way. I know your hormones are clouding your thoughts right now--I provoked them. It was irresponsible of me, and I am sorry. But when they calm down, you will realize I am not the only male on the face of this planet . . . and I am certainly not the most convenient one to focus your energies on." Then, tenderly caressing her cheek one more time, he released her hand and opened the door, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him. Not wanting to aggravate him further, she exited the apartment and waited in the hall while he locked the door behind him.

The car ride back to her apartment was quiet as so many of their trips in his car had been before, but the silence had never been so charged with repressed emotions. She turned to him before opening the car door when they were in front of her building, exchanging a longing gaze until he could stand it no longer and looked away. Slipping out of the car without a word, she headed for the entrance, failing to remember she was still wearing his jacket until she was inside the door. She tugged it tighter around her as tears began to fall, soaking the leather. His smell permeated the jacket, a scent made of too many intertwining layers for her to identify them. It was like him--complex, inscrutable . . . and intensely attractive to her for no logical reason at all.

--------

**Now, I don't want my AmonxRobin fans to suddenly think that this is all they're going to get. But things just couldn't get all tied up too quickly, now could they? We must have more angst and opportunities to inflict the Duncan Syndrome on poor Amon. Anyway, I'm very interested to see what you all think of where I took things. Do you think I stayed mostly in character (or as in character as they can be considering the circumstances)? A little OOC was intended since, as the title implies, they were both reacting more than thinking clearly through their actions. **

**Anyway, I already have most of the next chapter written, but it'll need a little cleaning up before I can post it. It should be coming soon though.**

**To Beautiful Witch Hunter Robin: That sounds really scary! I hope you feel better soon. **

**To linkinthepast: Thank you! I think this chapter may have answered your question for the most part. :) Though one never can tell what Amon will decide to do . . .**


	15. These Dreams

**Author's Note:**

**Just to warn you all, this is a weird chapter. I don't know about anyone else, but I've always enjoyed dream sequences. They allow for a little bit of experimentation with characters and imagery, and they can also be a lot of fun. The dreams in this chapter are all a little different. The first one is the kind I often like writing in my stories--the kind that's not a typical dream, but more of a lucid dream created or manipulated by magic or other such forces. The second is heavily influenced by X (by CLAMP) with mildly disturbing imagery. Also a little RahXephon influence, I suppose. The third is more random. Normal dreams (at least the ones I have which I suppose aren't really that normal after all) are usually very little like the dreams portrayed in stories or on TV. They are completely disjointed and nonsensical. I attempted to write the last dream more like a real dream, which allowed me to get all quirky again. Overall though, I suppose all the dreams have one thing in common--they've definitely got some "id" going on as Freud would term it. **

**This chapter also gives a little Dante back-story, though I didn't want to simply retell the first game so I kept it subtle and didn't go into a lot of detail. I hope it's not confusing to anyone, but I didn't want to lose my WHR fans by going too much into Devil May Cry. If you have questions, I'd be happy to answer them. **

:Revision Information: **So, I promised myself I wouldn't do this… but here we are. I'm such a freakin' perfectionist that I agonize over things forever, but I've tried to force myself to get over it by not holding onto chapters forever and rewriting them a million times. And also by not allowing myself to go back and change chapters that have already been posted. I may fix grammatical errors and such in my master copy, but I don't allow myself to rewrite anything. That's the challenge of serial fiction like this, and I like that fact. But… this chapter has been bugging me for a while. Devil May Cry 3 hadn't even been announced when I introduced Dante into this story, and DMC2 felt like it had nothing to do with DMC canon, so I based my understanding of the characters and plot on the first game only.**

**Then, DMC3 came out and punched holes through most of my understanding of Dante's back story. It's a prequel to the first game and reveals a lot about Dante's relationship with his brother, Vergil. I was going to continue my story as if DMC3 had never happened, but I kind of like what they did with Vergil and now I can't think of his character any other way. So, this chapter was bugging me and it's difficult to mention things about Dante's past and family without mentioning Vergil, so… I changed it. I only changed the first section, the dream Dante has about Vergil. I changed as little as possible—just enough to get Vergil more in character, so I suppose it doesn't really matter if you reread it or not, though you might be confused later on if you don't.**

Chapter 15

These Dreams

Dante lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. How ironic. He had told everyone he was going to sleep well, yet here he was, still awake at three in the morning. He must have jinxed himself out of a good night's sleep. Blinking lazily through the gloom at the tiny flecks of glitter embedded in the popcorn texture of the ceiling, he listened to the rhythmic sound of Trish's breathing and willed himself to sleep before she started snoring again. Exhuastion finally taking over, he slowly felt the hotel room around him fading as sleep claimed him. Then he felt himself falling.

What he hadn't expected was to land—

—_face first on a hill covered with daisies. He pushed himself up into a crouch instinctively, surveying the area around him. A figure dressed in blue sat next to him on the hillside. Eerily familiar silver hair fluttered around the man's face as he turned to look at Dante. "I didn't expect to see you here so soon…Dante."_

_Dante's breath caught in his throat. "Vergil?" his voice cracked on the name._

"_Do you have another twin brother?"A small smile curved Vergil's lips._

"_Not that I know of," Dante answered brusquely. "What are you doing here, Vergil?" He sat down next to his brother reluctantly. He realized now that this was a dream, but just because he was dreaming did not mean he wasn't vulnerable. This dream already seemed almost too vivid_—_too real_—_to be normal._

"_Take a look around," Vergil commented, gesturing broadly at the hillside around them. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm pushing up daisies."_

_Dante choked on an unexpected laugh. "That was a bad joke"_

"_You've told worse," Vergil replied, looking at him seriously with blue eyes which mirrored Dante's own. "Still wearing the pendant, I see." He tapped a finger against the crimson pendant resting against Dante's chest. "What happened when you joined my half with yours, anyway?"_

"_It helped me to defeat Mundus. That's all that matters," Dante said reluctantly. "Back then... when I first saw you in that castle…Vergil, I didn't realize it was you. You know that, don't you?"_

_Vergil shrugged, laying back in the grass. "What difference does it make? We've tried to kill each other before. Don't tell me you got sentimental over it. If you hadn't killed me, you know I would have killed you." He looked up at Dante, pushing himself up on his elbows. "That's not why you're here, is it? To make peace with me?"_

"_Hell no," Dante replied with more resolve than he felt. _

"_Good." Vergil pursed his lips. "There will never be peace between us. You know that."_

_Dante smiled sadly. "There was peace once."_

"_And then we grew up."_

"_Right." Laughing ironically under his breath, Dante thought about Vergil's response; maybe they just hadn't grown up enough. Then, more softly, he added, "I don't know why I'm here." He swept his gaze over the endlessly blue horizon; not even a white puff of a cloud disrupted the solid hue of the sky. "I have to admit I wouldn't have expected to run into you in a place like this though. I thought you wanted to stay in the demon world…and after I…after you died I figured you'd end up in hell anyway."_

_He could feel Vergil's eyes on him and he glanced at his brother, unsurprised by the hatred burning in his blue eyes. What did surprise him was the hint of something else—something resembling respect... or maybe even affection. How two such opposing emotions could be coexisting on his features, Dante had no idea. "I tried to live in our father's world, Dante. I thought I could do anything he had done, with or without his power. I thought I could defeat the prince of darkness, but I was wrong."_

_Dante observed him for a few moments. "So, you got tired of the underworld. I still can't believe you'd rather hang out in a place like this. Even I don't expect to end up here."_

_Vergil raised an eyebrow at him. "In a field of daisies?"_

"_No." Dante turned a withering look on his brother. "In heaven."_

_Vergil's mocking laugh caught Dante by surprise. "You think **this**_ _is heaven?"_

"_Well, it certainly doesn't look like hell," Dante retorted defensively. "And I don't think we're in the human world."_

_Vergil sat up suddenly, his expression solemn. "You're dreaming, Dante. This can be anywhere you like. But it's not heaven. I don't think even you have so little imagination."_

_Dante shrugged. "I've been worse places."_

"_Take a look around," Vergil said, gesturing to the endless monotonous hills of daisies and the flat blue sky. "If heaven is this boring, then it's no wonder devils have no interest in it."_

"_Fine. I'll bite." Dante leaned back, resting his palms on the grass behind him. "If we're not in heaven, where are we?"_

_Shaking his head in disgust, Vergil answered in that quiet tone of his that never ceased to get on Dante's nerves. "Purgatory."_

"_Ah," Dante said, nodding as he gave their surroundings another glance. "That makes sense."_

"_It should. You created this place in your own mind, anyway."_

_Looking at Vergil out of the corner of his eye, Dante asked quietly, "So, I created you out of my memories then, too, didn't I?"_

_Vergil turned his attention to him, his expression haughty and unreadable. "Perhaps."_

_Not liking Vergil's mysterious answer, Dante returned his attention to the horizon, only to notice a dark, ominous bank of clouds moving swiftly across the sky, casting a dark shadow across the field of daisies. "What's that?" he asked, feeling fear coiling deep inside him though he wasn't sure why._

_Vergil did not react to the changing sky, his voice still quiet and calm. "You have to stay focused, Dante. You have a new enemy to worry about."_

_Smirking, Dante replied, "They just never stop coming."_

_Turning his intense gaze back on Dante, Vergil said, "This one is different. Our father's power might not be enough. Even our father—" He looked back at the horizon suddenly, pushing himself into a crouch._

"_Brother."Dante shuddered at the sound of the voice, low and distant like the mutter of thunder. "Brother,"it said again, this time closer. Dante rose to his feet and turned in a circle, scanning the now darkened horizon for the source of the voice. A feminine silhouette on a hill in the distance caught his attention. She was framed by the last patch of blue sky and raising her arms in welcome. "I am here, brother. I am waiting."_

"_Beatrice," Dante growled in response, finally recognizing the voice, annoyance burning in him at the woman's audacity to call him brother. "I am not your brother."_

_Suddenly Beatrice was standing with them on the hillside, dark hair billowing in the wind. "You cannot deny me. I am your half-sister, whether you choose to face the truth or not."_

_Vergil looked up at Beatrice with his piercing gaze. "That's ridiculous," he snapped. _

_Beatrice shifted her focus to Vergil with a smile. "I didn't realize you still had such guilt over our brother's memory, Dante." Taking a step toward Vergil, she traced a fingertip over his cheek slowly and turned to look at Dante. "Perhaps there is still hope if you regret his death this much. You can't bear to be the murderer of your own sibling."_

_Dante's eyes narrowed. "I regret that Vergil was not himself when he died. But I was not unwilling to kill him if that was what it took to stop his thirst for power. I'll regret your death far less." He took a step toward her. "I refuse to believe we're related, but I'll accept the possibility you're a devil."_

"_Half-demon," she clarified. "As are you. And if you are making accusations, remember, sweet Dante, that your lover is more demon than either of us."_

"_But you have embraced your demon side, just like Vergil." Vergil did not reply, merely looking at him with that aloof expression again. "As for Trish, she has rejected her ancestry just as my father did."_

"_As **our**_ _father did," Beatrice insisted. "Our father was a fool who chose poorly. The door was meant to open, and the demons were meant to dominate. It is the way of things."_

"_No," Dante replied, his voice taut with anger as he backed away slowly, hands reaching instinctively for the guns at his belt but coming up empty. "You are the one who has chosen poorly. And we will stop you."_

_A melodic laugh bubbled up from her slender throat. "We? You mean you and those witch hunters? They can't stop me. The only one of them who might have the power doesn't know how to use it. And she will be mine before the sun sets again. I'm through using tools to get to her. She will come to me on her own."_

"_Robin?" Dante demanded. "What do you intend to do to her?"_

"_She will follow me because she wishes it." Beatrice smiled sadly. "I wish you would follow me as well, Dante. It's too bad Vergil isn't still alive instead of you. He would have understood." She turned back to Vergil, tracing her fingertips over his jaw with a smile. _

_Eyes narrowed, Vergil slapped her hand away. "You don't know anything about me. I always wanted to be an only child, but one sibling is more than enough."_

"_Why do you deny me, Dante?" Beatrice's eyes were burning when she refocused them on Dante. Wind swept over the hillside then, whipping through their hair and forcing Dante to squint against the debris it scattered in its wake. "Are you so naive as to think our father denied his demon tendencies entirely? Did you think that your mother was the only woman he ever touched?" _

_Dante was at the limit of his patience. "That's enough_! _Your threats mean nothing to me, bitch. I **will**_ _find you and I **will**_ _destroy you. And I swear, if you touch Robin or Trish, I'll kill you twice. You got that?"_

_The wind picked up speed, obscuring Dante's vision to the point of sightlessness, and he felt himself falling again, the hillside around him crumbling into nothingness. "**You cannot stop me, Dante."**_ _The voice was not Beatrice's. It was deeper and more resonating, yet still familiar to him; it sounded vaguely like his father's voice. "**The door will open, and the world will be mine."**_

"_Eat shit and die!" Dante snarled back at the voice, knowing it made itself sound familiar to him only in an attempt to manipulate him. "You open that door and you'd better just watch so it doesn't hit ya where the good Lord split ya, 'cause it'll be closing again just as fast!"_

"_Be careful, Dante." This time it was Vergil's voice speaking to him in a fervent whisper. "Even father couldn't completely defeat this one…"_

"Dante! Stop shaking me, you big oaf!"

Dante came to suddenly, finding Trish's face inches away from his own, his hands gripping her slender arms tightly as he shook her angrily. "What the hell?" he murmured softly, releasing her.

"That's what I'd like to know," Trish snapped back.

He threaded his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Sorry… I was dreaming."

"Well, I'd hope so. I'd hate to think you attacked me in my sleep because you wanted to." She snatched the covers back over her and rolled over, turning her back to him. "You drank too much at that bar tonight. You always have crazy dreams when you're drunk, and somehow it always ends up interfering with _my_ sleep."

"That's exactly what I need right now," he said thoughtfully. "A drink."

"You're pathetic," she muttered against her pillow, already drifting off to sleep again.

"Whatever, Trish…"

_-----_

_"Amon." He followed the sound of his name, knowing it had come from her lips and knowing he must find her._

_He was outside of his body, watching_ _from just beyond the darkness encircling the surreal scene below. His body was knelt down on the marble floor, hundreds of silver threads slung from the darkness above wrapping around his torso and arms, keeping him upright with his arms spread out to either side. The threads were so fine they had cut into him in several places, drawing vivid red lines against his pale naked skin. His eyes opened slowly and suddenly he was inside his body, looking out, feeling the chill marble against his knees and the sharp razor edges of the threads incising his flesh. _

_Robin stood before him, dressed in a clinging, floor-length gown made of black lace, her ghostly white skin showing through in places where the lace was woven loosely. She smiled at him from behind the loose tendrils of hair framing her heart-shaped face before bending over him, cradling his head in her arms and pressing a kiss against the crown of his head. Her touch thawed his icy skin with an almost painful heat, and he leaned toward her, burying his face against her stomach, letting her warmth permeate his body. "Robin," he whispered against a patch of bare skin just above her navel. "I'm sorry."_

_Her hands had slipped beneath the threads crisscrossing his back as she curled herself over him, encircling him with her warmth. He shivered at the intimacy of her touch as her fingertips paused at his lower back. The sudden agony of her fingernails rending his flesh caused him to gasp in pain. "It's too late for apologies," she whispered in his ear before tracing a path to his mouth with her tongue, leaving a trail of fiery heat behind._

_Straining against the threads binding him, he struggled to pull away from her as he was struck by an overwhelming sense of wrongness. "What is it, Amon?" Robin asked suddenly, crouching down in front of him, her bloodied fingers weaving through his hair before clutching his head firmly between her hands. Her smile was no longer innocent, and her green eyes were darkened with lust. "Can the seductor not stand being seduced?" The tip of her tongue darted out to lick her lips languidly as her gaze raked over his body._

_"You're not my Robin," he whispered hoarsely, panic entering his voice as he clamped his eyes shut to block out the image of Robin looking at him with such sinful thoughts in her eyes. "This is wrong."_

_"If this is wrong, what would be right?"_

_His eyes snapped open and he found himself fully clothed and dressed in his usual attire, looking down into Robin's once again childlike eyes. He was pinning her to the ground, his hands clamped down on her wrists and the weight of his body preventing her from moving. She arched her body up against his ever so slightly, eliciting a moan from him before he could hold it back._

_"Is this what you want?" she whispered._

_"No!" he cried, crawling away from her quickly and rising to his feet. He buried his face in his hands as he stumbled away, wanting to crawl out of his own skin. "Not like this."_

_"You really are a coward, aren't you?" The voice was not Robin's._

_Amon jerked his gaze up quickly enough to risk whiplash as he searched for the owner of the voice. He was now standing in front of an ivory throne in the middle of a vast cathedral-like space filled with serpentine columns. Dante lounged on the throne, regarding him silently. "A coward afraid of a fifteen year old girl." Dante turned his attention to Robin who was half sitting on the throne and half leaning against him with an arm draped around his shoulders. He traced a fingertip over her cheek and down her neck to the ruffled collar of her pure white dress. She leaned into his touch and he closed the distance between them, pausing just before he claimed her lips. Amon looked sharply away. _

_"You can't even watch, can you?" Dante laughed brusquely. "You are one pathetic human being. You refuse her, and yet you couldn't stand to see anyone else touch her."_

_Returning his gaze reluctantly to the demon hunter, Amon saw Robin standing between them now, her hair blowing in an unfelt wind and her face glowing with an angelic light. She lifted her hands and a ring of fire erupted around him, consuming him in an instant._

Amon's awoke with a start, shivering at the chill morning air against his damp skin, slick with sweat. Concentrating on controlling his breathing, he gradually managed to slow his heart rate to sub-light speed. These dreams had to stop. He'd thought that perhaps his desires would have cooled down a bit after he finally allowed himself to touch Robin, but they had, in fact, intensified exponentially. Unfortunately, his guilt had intensified at the same rate as well.

Glancing at the window, still open a crack and spilling in cold air, he noted that the sun hadn't even peeked over the horizon yet. The clock by his bed screamed 4:00 in bright blue numbers. Squinting at the light, he came to the decision he wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight. Even if he could manage to fall asleep again, it wouldn't be worth the risk of another nightmare. Robin haunted him enough when he was awake.

Crawling out of bed and grabbing the t-shirt he'd discarded during the night, he reached for a pair of socks and his tennis shoes. Pulling his hair back into a hasty ponytail, he grabbed his keys and strapped on his gun before heading out for his morning run. It was earlier than he normally liked to exercise, but he would get far more benefit from the exertion than he would from sitting around in his apartment brooding.

-----

_Ding-dong._

_Sakaki jumped down off his pink flamingo and ran into the kitchen. "Oh boy! A visitor!" He opened the microwave door to find Doujima, Karasuma and Robin on the other side, dressed up as Rikku, Paine and Yuna in Final Fantasy X-2 attire. He grinned wickedly as he looked at the scantily clad girls._

_"Hiya!" Doujima cried, tossing her scarf back over her shoulder and pulling a huge brown paper bag out of an invisible pocket. "I brought you a present!" As she spoke she made a number of strange, unnecessary gestures._

_"Oh boy! A present!" Sakaki cried, grabbing the bag from her as the other girls let themselves inside his apartment and sat down in front of the refrigerator. Ripping the bag to shreds, he found a brand new, shiny video game with a way cool picture of Dante on the front. "Oh boy! Let's play!" Plugging the game into his refrigerator, he opened the door, and it turned into a huge TV. "Widescreen!" he ordered. "Woooooaaaaaaah."Amazingly awesome graphics began flooding the now even huge-er screen and Sakaki wiped the drool off his chin. _

_"Let's rock, baby," Dante said through the enormous speaker hidden behind the toaster. _

_"Wow . . ." Sakaki mused for a moment before hitting the start button. _

_Soon he found himself punching buttons frantically and watching Dante tumble and leap through various rooms of a an ancient castle, destroying pink bunnies and green dinosaurs with a huge amorphous sword-thing that could change shape and size. Stabbing the sharp pointy thing into the final bunny in a room, Sakaki sighed with satisfaction as a video sequence began. Dante was standing in the middle of a museum room with paintings blanketing every wall. Suddenly, a dark figure stepped out of one of the paintings, facing Dante with his back to the screen. _

_"I'm scared, Haruto," Doujima whimpered, wrapping her arms around one of Sakaki's and curling up against him._

_The sound of Dante's laughter made Sakaki drag his attention back to the screen. "This is the last place I would have expected to run into someone with some guts," Dante stated, pacing back and forth in front of the figure. Sakaki noticed the stranger was wearing a pink tutu over his black trench coat. _

_The camera angle lurched suddenly, spinning to face the dark figure and Sakaki yelped when he saw Amon's angry expression. "Let's end this," Amon growled, pulling out a ludicrously colossal water gun. _

_Suddenly Sakaki's view of the TV was obscured by Robin as she plastered herself to the screen, her hands stroking over the area which showed Amon's face. "Robin!" Sakaki screamed despairingly. "You're getting smudgies on the screen!" A giant bottle of Windex came plummeting down from some immeasurable height above and crushed Robin into the deep pile carpeting._

_On the TV, Amon and Dante were dueling on top of a wide platform overflowing with rose petals. A choir was singing nonsensical lyrics as they fought. "Ammonite! Swordfish leaping! Dromedary! Narwhales lost at sea! Mesozoic era!" Dante's sword transformed into a scythe and he chopped Amon's water gun in half. Then, with a flourish, he cut the rose blossom in Amon's breast pocket away from its stem. _

_"The Rose Bride belongs to me," Dante stated, beckoning to Robin who was now standing on the platform next to them, no longer crushed under the bottle of Windex in Sakaki's room. _

_Amon cackled suddenly, holding up a ring of keys hanging from a miniature gun blade. "But you can't drive the car if you don't have the keys!" _

_"Hey!" a boy dressed in a bizarre outfit with mismatched shorts and sleeves cried, arms crossed over his mostly bare chest as he glared at the two men. "This is MY story!"_

_"Who the hell are you?" Dante demanded._

_"I'm Tidus! And I'm an awesome blitzball player. And I hate my dad. And, uh, yeah, this is MY story!"_

_"What a whiner that kid is . . ." a deep, mysterious voice said from off screen. Suddenly, a tall, monocular man dressed in crimson (rather like Dante, in that respect) pulled an enormous sake jug out of the loop on his belt and whacked the whiny young man over the head with it. "That's how it's done." He pushed the sunglasses up on his nose._

_"Sakaki," Karasuma said suddenly, with Paine-like sarcasm. "This is boring."_

_"I've gotta admit, I'm kind of bored too," Dante said from the TV._

_"Yeah, I could think of some more interesting things to do," Doujima agreed, pawing at Sakaki's t-shirt._

_"Oh boy!" Sakaki cried. _

The sound of the alarm clock blaring from his bedroom with the decibel level of a tornado siren jarred Sakaki from his dream with cruel abruptness. He found himself twisted into an uncomfortable pretzel on the floor in front of his TV, the Playstation controller still gripped in his hands. Dawn light was creeping in through the windows and he realized he had fallen asleep playing video games again. "Damn!"

-----

The pale glow of dawn filtered through her eyelashes as Robin cracked her eyes open ever so slightly. She groaned in annoyance at her internal clock's insistence on keeping the old routine from her years at the convent. Rolling onto her back, she looked up at the white expanse of ceiling above her, the blank canvas serving as a background for projecting her memories of the night before. The scenes replayed themselves before her eyes, and she squirmed in embarrassment at her behavior. She had acted so boldly, with little thought to the consequences of her actions. Shame washed over her as she realized what kind of foolish mistakes she might have made if Amon hadn't stopped them both when he did.

Until last night she had always had faith in her ability to stay true to her personal moral code. She had avoided temptation and the "near occasion of sin" quite efficiently, though she had never really doubted her ability to refuse carnal desires without a second thought. Now, everything had changed. She felt immoral and corrupt when she realized that she was very uncertain whether or not she could keep herself from trying to touch Amon if he were to walk into her room right this moment. And if he were to reach for her first? She didn't know how far she'd be willing to let him go without even making an effort to stop him. How had things changed so quickly? Since when had she allowed herself to be so ruled by her desires?

Of course, she had to remind herself that until last night she had never seen a man without his shirt before, let alone experienced a real kiss. Amon had been right. Her hormones had been driving her decision-making process. That could not continue. She had to take control of her body and stop allowing it to make choices for her.

Determined, she crawled out of bed and stumbled over to the closet, surveying her new wardrobe with a frown. Doujima had coerced her into buying most of her new clothes on the assumption that she wanted to draw Amon's attention. Now, his attention was the last thing she needed. And yet, part of her did not want to go back to her usual attire once again. It had not made things any easier the day before.

Luckily, she had managed to convince Doujima to allow her to purchase a handful of more conservative outfits, which she could now convince herself were a happy medium for the two halves of her conflicted mind. Pulling out a dark red shirt with a high neckline, three-quarter length sleeves and tapered cuffs, she decided it was certainly conservative enough for her needs.

Now, for the other half of the outfit. She frowned at the slacks Doujima had picked out for her. They were tailored and fit her figure perfectly--but that was the problem. They fit too perfectly and showed too much of her shape. Instead, she reached for a heavy, ankle-length black skirt. It wasn't as full as her dress, but it hid nearly as much. Fiddling with a loose strand of straw-colored hair, she wondered what she should do with her hair. Quickly, she decided her old hairstyle would suffice. Amon had liked her hair down too much, and she couldn't braid it herself like Doujima had for her.

Decisions made, she headed for the bathroom, avoiding looking around too much on the way; seeing Touko's things scattered throughout the apartment reminded her of thoughts she would rather not think about. Though Robin was positive her now absent roommate hadn't been in her right mind when she'd attacked her, she still wondered how much of Touko's anger--how many of her vindictive words--had been real. Remembering Amon's kiss and the longing in his touch, she could understand a little bit of Touko's feelings. If Touko had known Amon felt the way he did about her, she certainly had reason to be envious. Touko's feelings were completely natural viewed from that perspective, and yet the thought of what misery she was in fact jealous of was rather ironic.

Smiling sadly at that thought, Robin started to run hot water for a bath. Amon may have feelings for her, but Robin knew now that there could never be a happy ending for the two of them. Doujima had been right. At its best, theirs was nothing more than a tragic love story.

--------

**Hmm, I'm not sure why only the boys got dreams. It just kind of happened that way. I'm sure Robin had some _nice_** **dreams, though, if you know what I mean. Too bad she's all angsty now too, but I just had to acknowledge the fact that she would surely be feeling a little bit of guilt over her actions. Plus she's got the whole "I'm not worthy" complex going on.**

**Anyway, a couple references, in case anyone's wondering: "MPod" is a nickname for the director of the church choir I was in back at school who mentioned once that he would be the one running the bar in purgatory. Really random, and yet really funny to me, so I couldn't help but throw it in. Also, when Virgil talks about the drinks in purgatory "leaving you thirsty," I was thinking of the Enertron in Chrono Trigger. It refills your HP/MP, but leaves you feeling hungry . . . Lastly, if you didn't get the reference to the fight on a platform overflowing with rose petals, I was referring to Revolutionary Girl Utena, both the movie and the series. I wish I could have found a way to work in the car wash . . . **

**To Chibi Tenshi: shakes confetti out of hair with a smile Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying my characterizations. Hope I can keep it up! It occurred to me when I was writing the Amon shower scene that we never see Amon in any clothes other than his "usual attire" during the whole season, let alone in no clothes. And his "usual attire" shows absolutely no skin at all--except for his neck (I'm a fan of necks). But it's still so unfair! **

**To Sesshomarusgirl123: I don't recall ever saying this was going to be a lemon, but I promise there will be enough AxR to make it worth your time nevertheless. :)**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Stop putting yourself down or I'm going to have to come beat you up! ;) I wasn't always patient. Just ask my beta reader. She's seen all the impatient crazy writing I've done in the past. It's easy to get carried away . . . I understand being interested in writing original characters though. The original story I've been working on for many years now has far too many characters simply because I love creating characters.  
I think it would be fun to see Amon beat the shit out of Zaizen, but I'm not sure if it'll work into my story. Now that you mention it though . . . Hmm, we'll just have to see how AU I want to go. **

**To just4ubaby: It makes me so happy to hear you got caught up in the characters' emotions in my story. I get totally caught up in them when I write, so it's great to hear people get caught up in them when they read too!**

**To GothicBlacre: Thank you! It's okay if you write more than one word, though "wow" is a very good word. I've noticed my characters enjoy saying it at least. :)**

**To yukari youkai: Thanks for all your reviews! You'll have to finish the first game, to understand why his card says Devil Never Cry, though I don't know why I'm trying to avoid spoilers when I'm pretty much spoiling everything anyway. Basically, he changes the name of his business at the end of the game. I totally know what scene you're talking about with Touko yelling at Robin. That's the one that always comes to mind for me too. I think it revealed a lot of the Touko "behind the mask" if you know what I mean. I get the impression she's a bit two-faced. Oh, and here's your candy bar, by the way. Three Musketeers or Snickers?**

**To Patsita: Thanks! Wouldn't you just love to actually be able to picture them--like literally. I've toyed with making that chapter into a little mini doujinshi sorta deal. But, alas, I don't have that much time.**

**To Pyrosa: "Jailbait hell." I like it. Maybe I should have made that the title of the chapter. Or how about this, "Amon's going to jail." Yeah, I had that scene from "Time to Say Goodbye" in my mind too. You just know he wanted to kiss her in that scene, but then we never got more between them really in the series. That's why we have to create our own. :) If you draw a pic, you must share details.**

**To Dark Mistress Meli: Obsession is good. I will do my best to feed it.**

**To Sakura Rain: I'm glad you are enjoying it! I'm all about the "fighting-inner-pain-and-angsting" kinds of stuff. **

**To Inuki: D! Can't believe I forgot to mention my fic to you in the first place! Doh! But you found out anyway. I'll have to send you an email soon. I hope you're doing well.**

**To Lizalou42: Well, I've already responded to your questions, but I wanted to post answers just in case anyone else read your review and had wondered about the same things. I know I'm wordy . . . I can't help it. I just like the sssssooooundsssss of wwwoooordsssss.  
I don't think Robin and Amon would be very likely to separate even if they were concerned about being tracked since I would think Amon's pretty good at losing people in a car chase and they only have one vehicle. (Though a car chase would have been fun--Moonlighting style)   
I wondered if they should check in with STN-J too, and that's why I mentioned there hadn't been a chance to call for backup. Also, Robin had been expecting Amon to take them back to the office, not to drop her off at home.  
The reason for "staking out, then running through the cemetery only to get caught spying and chased down" was because they were just staking out the one witch. They didn't know about the others (and wouldn't have expected them since witches rarely work together according to the show), so they followed him and chased him into the cemetery because it looked like a chance to take him down. They weren't intending to spy so much as to actually capture the guy. Unfortunately, they ran into a group of witches and were quickly outnumbered and outgunned. They ran because it was fairly obvious they weren't going to take all the witches down at once, especially when one of them was so powerful. The purpose of the chase as a whole was to introduce the bad guy (girl) and the fact witches were working together. I also thought it was interesting to have witches pursuing them for once. Oo, Ah, Walker Boh. Don't know where that came from.  
Anyway, as to Sakaki's outlandish interest, I was shocked in rewatching the show to see him playing a handheld video game in one of the episodes. I guess it was just in my subconscious the whole time--not just a crazy random idea! Oh, and yeah, it's Dante. And glowy circle thing is a bad deal.**

**Whew, I hope I didn't miss anybody's review. If I did, I apologize because I tried to get them all!**


	16. Consequences

**Author's Note:  
Much apologizings for the delay in updating! Authoress has been very busy with family reunioning and other such time-consuming activities. But I'm back now with another chapter! I've written it rather quickly and without much revision, so I hope it's not too rough. I may have to repost it if I reread it tomorrow and find a ton of mistakes . . . but I hate making people wait any longer for new stuff since I hate waiting!  
We get a lot of different points of view in this chapter, including someone's perspective we haven't had the pleasure of seeing from yet. :) Also, those of you who've been reading my author's notes might recall my mention of La Femme Nikita in an earlier chapter. Let's just say, I felt inspired to put a little bit of my thoughts on that subject into this chapter. No, it's not a new crossover. Just another fit of quirkiness brought on by watching a few random first season Nikita episodes this week.   
Also, in case anyone's interested, I've found my ideas about magic influenced by C.J. Cherryh, her series of books that starts with _Fortress in the Eye of Time_**** in particular. She has an interesting take on magic. She makes a distinction between magic which relies on the powers of nature and must work within the ebb and flow of the natural world, and magic which comes naturally or inherently within a person and works through one's desires and wishes. If you haven't read any of her books, I would highly recommend them. I have used the idea of the first kind of magic in my story.  
Anyway, moving on . . .**

Chapter 15

Consequences

Karasuma sighed in frustration as she leaned against the partition between the Chief's workspace and the rest of the office, lazily stirring her coffee. She had come in early this morning after waking from a fitful night of sleep, deciding she would rather survive on less sleep than continue to suffer through nightmares which left her feeling more exhausted than if she hadn't gotten any sleep at all. Unfortunately, the lack of sleep did little for her mood, and she had already snapped at Michael more times than he deserved; Michael, being the only other unfortunate soul in the office at this early hour had been forced to suffer the brunt of her irritability. Distracting herself, she'd wandered off to make some coffee, but no sooner had she headed back toward her desk than the elevator opened and Amon appeared, marching swiftly across the office with a dark, brooding expression. _Amon's forecast for the day: dark and brooding--what a surprise._

"You're here early than I expected, Amon," she commented casually, knowing her words would tempt his ire because of her complicity in Robin's actions the night before, yet finding she didn't really care if he lost his temper with her. In fact, she found her restless night had put her in the mood for an argument. "Are you feeling better today?" she asked pleasantly. She thought she caught Michael glance between the two of them and roll his eyes as he continued his perpetual tapping on the keyboard of his computer.

Amon tossed an expressionless glance at her before removing his coat and placing it over the back of his chair, the lack of expression on his face clearly artificially constructed. "I'm fine. I thought I would take the time to catch up on any case developments I've missed." He pursed his lips. "That is, of course, assuming the investigation has continued to progress during my absence."

Pushing herself away from the wall, she laughed softly. "A little full of ourself, aren't we? I hate to upset your vision of the world, but we don't stop working when you're not here." She crossed the room to her desk, feeling his eyes following her. She couldn't hold back a smirk at her own audacity as she added pointedly, "All the attention you've been getting lately must be going to your head."

"Little of it's been wanted, "he retorted coldly.

"Is that so?" She turned to face him, sitting down on the edge of her desk and crossing her arms over her chest. "So, some of it _was_ wanted, then? Which part, I wonder?" Though Michael had his back to them, Karasuma could almost see him pricking his ears as they argued, curiosity getting the better of him. She decided to use his prying ears against Amon, knowing how little Amon liked for anyone to know his personal business. Carefully, knowing she was pushing her luck, she commented, "I noticed you didn't turn her away, after all. I waited for longer than was necessary, but she never came back down. So, I can't help but wonder just how long--"

Glancing at Michael, and then back at her with narrowed eyes, Amon interrupted her before she could say more. "She spent the night in her own bed, if that's what you're implying. Alone." The sarcasm in his voice was deadly and the disgust in his eyes made her almost regret pushing him. "Or perhaps you were afraid she spent the night at the Factory with an orbo bullet in her back." Karasuma's mouth opened in outrage, though she had to admit some small part of her had considered both the possibilities he suggested. He continued before she could formulate a response. "She didn't need any encouragement, Karasuma, and the decision whether to continue ignoring her infatuation or to acknowledge it was mine to make, not yours. You forced my decision in a less than ideal situation."

He was correct. She had realized beforehand that Robin's visit would probably force Amon to deal with the dilemma of her crush, but, in her opinion, he had delayed the inevitable long enough. Ignoring the problem wouldn't make it go away. Still, pushing him into making such a decision when he was exhausted both physically and emotionally may not have been the wisest decision. Angry with her foolishness in provoking him as much as she was annoyed with him, Karasuma looked away from his penetrating gaze, noting Michael was no longer bothering to hide his interest, looking over his shoulder at Amon inquisitively. "I'm sorry, Amon," she said finally. "But you, of all people, should know how she can be. She's damn hard to say no to when she's determined."

"Yes, she is," he replied in a harsh whisper. "But _I_ said no."

Karasuma felt relief at hearing the result of his decision mixed with pity for the pain it had undoubtedly caused Robin. She suspected he felt much the same way judging by the remorse she could see hiding behind the anger in his eyes. Nodding, she said softly, "It's for the best, Amon. She'll understand eventually." Amon seemed surprised by her response; he had clearly misunderstood her to be a champion of Robin's cause.

"Why?" Michael demanded suddenly, anger coloring his cheeks a shade of red beneath the purple of his bruise. "Why did you say no to Robin?" _He followed the conversation rather well considering its ambiguity,_ Karasuma mused, though she was, in fact, surprised by Michael's reaction. She would have expected the hacker to be relieved by Amon's decision since it left Robin available to pursue other interests--interest he surely hoped he was among.

Amon glanced at Michael before replying brusquely, "I already explained the situation to you last night, Michael. I'm not going to repeat myself." Without another word, he turned to face his computer and slid down into his chair.

Before Karasuma could even fully register the oddity of the fact Amon had obviously confided in Michael previously, she heard the elevator open and turned to see the subject of their conversation walk into the room. Surprisingly, Robin looked fairly well rested and in better spirits than Karasuma had expected.

"Good morning," Robin intoned in her gentle half-whisper with a quiet smile, shifting her grip on the leather jacket she was carrying draped over one arm. Karasuma looked more closely at the odd burden. Robin was already wearing her usual burgundy coat. What was the jacket for?

"Morning," Michael managed in response, his voice slightly raw.

Karasuma smiled sympathetically at the craft user when she noticed Robin's eyes avoid Michael's and glance furtively at Amon. "Would you like some coffee, Robin?"

"Yes. Thank you, Karasuma-san."

Karasuma started heading for the kitchen, but stopped when she noticed Robin had taken a detour in the direction of Amon's desk. _Oh no. _Pausing awkwardly beside Amon, Robin placed the folded jacket on the desk beside him hesitantly. Amon glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye, his expression carefully impassive. "I wanted to return this," she murmured. Their gazes locked for a few moments and Karasuma was compelled to look away, feeling as if she were intruding somehow simply by watching the two of them exchange such an emotionally charged look. Before she followed the impulse though, Amon turned away suddenly with only a slight nod to acknowledge Robin's statement. _Hmm . . . I wonder how quickly and how completely he said no. He tries to maintain his cold exterior, but it's easy to see how much the effort's costing him by that look in his eyes._

Smiling bravely, Robin straightened, turning to Michael and asking politely, "Would you like some coffee, Michael?"

Looking up at her in surprise, Michael smiled. "Sure! Thanks. You're so thoughtful, Robin. Karasuma-san never offered me any."

"That's because you turned your nose up at my coffee-making skills. I seem to recall something to the effect of, 'You always make your coffee so weak,' and 'Robin always makes the best coffee.'"

Blushing furiously, Michael stammered, "That's not what I said--"

"Don't worry, Michael. I'll make sure Robin makes your cup for you." She smiled at Robin and noticed Amon glaring covertly at the girl's back. Suspecting the reason, she inquired, "Amon, did you want any coffee?" Robin's mouth dropped open slightly and her posture stiffened; she must not have noticed her failure to include him after all, though Karasuma had assumed his exclusion was intentional.

"No. Thank you." He had already returned his attention to his computer screen by the time Robin glanced back at him.

"Come on, Robin. Refill girl duty." When they were out of earshot, Karasuma confided, "I'm glad to see you survived last night's mischief. I was worried about you, and Amon is less than generous in sharing information."

"He certainly is," Robin agreed. "But I must admit I'm not so eager to talk about it myself." Then, smiling up at Karasuma quickly, she added, "But there's nothing to worry about. Everything's fine."

"I'm glad to hear that." _She's being exceptionally strong--though I don't know why I'm surprised by her strength. She's proven in the past that she's stronger than she looks. _Karasuma's gaze wandered back to the other side of the office when she heard Sakaki's voice greeting Michael and Amon. She frowned when she noticed the young hunter looked as if he had barely slept at all. Her grip tightened on her coffee cup. She was going to have to find a way to confiscate those video games of his.

Robin's voice caught her attention again. "I hope Amon wasn't angry with you for helping me."

Looking down at her with a reassuring smile, she answered, "I can certainly handle his anger. He's not nearly as frightening as he thinks he is."

"Everyone into the briefing room now," Zaizen's voice boomed suddenly from across the room, startling them both. "We have important business to discuss."

"Now Zaizen's anger, on the other hand, _is _a little frightening . . ." Karasuma muttered as she watched Zaizen stalk into the briefing room, his anger hanging over them like an ominously dark cloud as he went. Glancing back at Robin, she added, "We'd better get going."

------

Yawning, Doujima wandered into the STN-J office, only to find it unoccupied. Looking around curiously as she slipped off her green-tinted plastic sunglasses, she noted various signs of her coworkers' recent presence, including coats and half-empty coffee cups. Putting a hand on one hip, she turned around slowly in a circle, disappointed no one was here to witness her stylish entrance or her brand new outfit. She glanced down at her short army green cargo skirt and matching camouflage shirt with a swooped neckline and cap sleeves, deciding she would simply have to admire herself if no one else was around to do so. Smiling, she pulled off her white pleather jacket with a flourish and tossed it on her chair. She was feeling very "la femme Nikita" today. Sakaki may have been the only STN-J member with a fanatical video game obsession, but he certainly was not the only one with a fanatical obsession. Doujima had a few of her own; fashion was one of them; American TV shows from the nineties was another.

Just as she was about to whip out her orbo gun dramatically and pose with it pointed at the window as if she had just caught sight of someone spying on her, she perceived voices coming from the briefing room. Then a familiar voice bellowed from directly behind her, "Doujima-kun!"

Grimacing, Doujima turned to face Chief Kosaka's irate expression. "How's your mother doing, Chief?" she asked sweetly with a pasted on smile.

"Better than you'll be doing if you continue with your irresponsible behavior! Do you even know the meaning of arriving at work on time?!" A vein throbbed on his forehead and Doujima began backing away slowly.

"I should probably be getting in there for the meeting," she said quickly as she turned and all but ran for the briefing room; not a very Nikita-like exit, but she was willing to sacrifice coolness in order to avoid one of the chief's rants.

"We'll be having a little chat afterwards" Kosaka shouted after her.

Slipping into the darkened meeting room, Doujima ignored the glare she got from Zaizen as she sat down quietly in the vacant spot beside Robin. If she was Nikita today, Zaizen was definitely Operations, and she didn't want to piss him off too much. "As I was saying, "Zaizen continued, his voice sharp with an edge of disapproval, "this witch needs to be found and stopped as soon as possible. From headquarters' projections, her power will be at its peak in two days; she will attempt to break the seal then, at that moment when all the elements of nature are aligned in her favor. Beyond that moment, the potential of her power will wane and it will be impossible for her to obtain the necessary strength to open the door until the cycles have turned again." As Zaizen began pacing around the room slowly, Doujima propped her arm up on the table and dropped her chin in her palm with a sigh, only half-listening to his lecture.

Gazing around the room, she assessed her companions' expressions silently and attempted to stave off boredom by casting them as characters in her Nikita charade. Michael--who would obviously play Birkof with those glasses and his computer skills--looked exhausted, and the left side of his face was shadowed by what looked like a bruise. _Strange. I didn't notice that last night._ Her gaze shifted to Sakaki who looked like he was, as usual, only on the verge of consciousness. Frowning, she attempted to find a Nikita character to compare him with, but only came up with bit parts. That was okay, he'd probably rather play a video game character anyway. Doujima decided Karasuma would fit best as Madeline, though she wasn't quite as manipulative or cunning. Karasuma may not have been necessarily devious, but she had moodiness down to an art when her time of month rolled around; Karasuma's visiting aunt went by the name of Aunt Bitch instead of Aunt Flo.

Shifting her gaze again, Doujima's eyes came to Amon. She didn't even have to consider the casting options for him. With that long dark hair and constantly cold expression, he was obviously Michael--the Section One operative, not STN-J's resident hacker. It occurred to her that her own casting as Nikita no longer fit if Amon was Michael since the tension between him and Robin made the craft user a far more appropriate choice. Doujima continued gazing at Amon a few more moments longer, thinking of her favorite real life tragic love story in the context of her favorite fictional tragic love story. She noted that Amon's expression was chiseled in stone and his gaze was focused on the panel in front of him with almost conscious effort--as if he was avoiding someone's gaze. _What's that about? _She scrunched her face up in a pout as it occurred to her that she must have missed some kind of fireworks between him and his partner.

Turning her attention to said partner, she saw Robin was likewise keeping her attention focused straight ahead, affirming Doujima's conclusion. On a lighter note though, Doujima was relieved to see Robin was wearing one of her new outfits, even if it was a little on the school teacher end of the fashion scale. In that respect, Robin was hardly a likely candidate to play Nikita--especially with her hair put up in those ridiculous . . .handlebars. Doujima felt one of her eyebrows twitch in annoyance. That girl really needed to learn some hair-styling techniques on the double. It was quickly becoming a fashion emergency.

"We have no idea how many witches Beatrice is using to magnify her power," Zaizen was saying when Doujima finally started listening again, "but she is certainly still looking for more." He was almost finished with his slow circuit of the room when he paused behind Amon and dropped a hand on the hunter's shoulder firmly; Doujima thought Amon might have actually recoiled ever so slightly in reaction to the contact. Glancing at Robin with a strange expression, Zaizen continued, "We should keep a close eye out for any powerful witches we know of whom Beatrice might choose to use. She's already proven her rather formidable ability to manipulate others. Let's not give her the chance to manipulate anyone else." His words sounded like a threat, and Doujima would have bet money it was directed at Amon from the way Zaizen was hovering over him.

"Also," Zaizen went on, releasing his grip on Amon's shoulder abruptly, "I shouldn't have to remind all of you of the rules against bringing outsiders into the STN-J building without proper authorization, or of the rules against sharing confidential information with those who don't have the authority to know it." Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at each of them in turn. "This office has been seriously lacking in professionalism lately. That's going to change right now. It's time we remembered that we are here to do a job--not to play games and make new friends."

_Hmm. Amon will be happy with that,_ Doujima thought wryly. _He didn't like Dante in the first place and this order simply gives him an easy excuse to kick the demon hunter to the curb, so to speak._

Finally, after one last searing glare, Zaizen stated, "So, now that Michael's given you all the information we have on the possible whereabouts of our witch, I expect to see some progress made on this case. Don't give me a reason to call another meeting like this." The sense of finality in his voice made it clear the meeting was over.

Slowly, the hunters began to stir from their seats, reluctant to move under the weight of the Director's gaze. Sakaki was the first out of the room, followed quickly by Michael though he had been farthest from the door. Doujima rose to leave as well, but paused when she heard Zaizen snap, "Robin." Looking back curiously, Doujima saw the craft user frozen in place as she looked up at the Director with dread in her verdant eyes. "I need to see you in my office."

An intense frown shadowing his features, Zaizen started heading for the door with Robin following reluctantly in his wake. Amon, Doujima noticed, was trailing behind them as well with an uneasy expression clouding his features. Exchanging a worried glance with Karasuma, Doujima peeked out of the briefing room quickly and watched the strange procession make its way toward Zaizen's office with a frown. She knew all too well how meetings with Michael and Operations went for Nikita. This meeting with Amon and Zaizen wasn't likely to go much differently for poor Robin.

Zaizen paused at the steps, ushering Robin ahead of him and turning back to face Amon. Doujima strained her ears to hear the words he hissed to Amon. "I have no use for you here. You already have your orders. I expect you to follow them." _He really does sound like Operations_ . . .

Amon watched Zaizen disappear up the stairs, his expression unreadable. Then, spinning around, he strode across the room toward Michael's desk purposefully and leaned close to the hacker before exchanging quiet words with him. "What's going on?" Doujima asked Karasuma as she failed to make out what the two were saying.

Shaking her head, Karasuma answered, "I honestly don't know."

Stepping back inside the briefing room, Doujima frowned when she saw that all the blinds in Zaizen's office were shut tight. "Damn. Well, I hope he's not being too hard on Robin for bringing Dante in."

"Doujima-kun!" Kosaka's voice bellowed from directly behind her, making her jump nearly a foot in the air. _Well, there goes my daydreaming for the rest of the day. _

------

Zaizen had about reached the limit of his patience within competence. He had never had much patience for ineptitude in the first place, but he had even less patience with a total disregard for orders and authority. He was the one in charge here and it was about damn time everyone started remembering that fact.

Shutting the office door behind him vigorously, he almost smirked at the small jump of surprise the sound evoked in Robin. He regarded the deceptively dangerous girl silently as he crossed the room to his desk and sat down slowly, taking the time to light a cigar before looking up at her again and leaning back in his chair leisurely. Continuing to watch her silently, he enjoyed the hint of fear and uncertainty in her unguarded green gaze as she waited for him to speak.

In truth, he had spent very little time around the young craft user, despite her role in so many of his thoughts and concerns on a daily basis. He had trusted Amon to do the observation for him, expecting the man to keep her at a distance as he always kept companion sat a distance, but Zaizen was beginning to realize Amon was not, in fact, the perfect hunter he though the had created. Even Amon had a fatal weakness it seemed. Seeing that weakness standing directly in front of him, Zaizen felt an urge to chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Then he remembered his daughter, safe now in a room within the orbo-defended walls of the Factory where no witch could touch her. He was almost certain Touko had been used only in order to get to this fragile girl standing before him. Robin was young and inexperienced. She was vulnerable. Why was the use of his daughter necessary to get to her? Just what defenses did Robin have to stop a witch of Beatrice's power?

Of course, he knew one of Robin's strongest defenses all too well; it had been sitting in the briefing room this morning--had followed after her when Zaizen ordered her into his office, as if to protect her from Zaizen himself. He had trained that defense himself, though not for the purpose of her protection. Somewhere in the middle of this, Amon had become Robin's chief defender despite Zaizen's direct orders to the contrary. Amon was, in essence, defecting to the enemy's side. Zaizen repressed an inappropriate smile at that ironic thought. Amon was making a critical mistake if he thought Zaizen would fail to see his duplicity, or fail to put a stop to it. He had made Amon into what he was--he could destroy him just as easily. This situation simply gave Zaizen a new chink in Amon's armor, another weak point to use against him. Because, whether Amon realized it or not, he was already committed to Zaizen's cause. Zaizen had given Amon confidential information over the years--knowledge of many of his plans for a better, purer world free from witches and their corruption--and that compromising information made him a liability if he changed sides. The only way Amon could leave Zaizen's confidence now would be in a coffin, and Zaizen would be the one to personally nail down the lid if Amon chose to betray him.

Finally tearing himself away from such thoughts, he decided Robin had waited long enough for him to speak. "I'm not sure how you did things back in Italy," he began tersely, "but there are some breaches of security which simply will not be tolerated here, Robin. This is he second time you have unwisely chosen to use STN resources for personal reasons. When you used them the first time to find out more information about an acquaintance who had died in a car wreck, I let it slide because of the possibility you hadn't known the consequences of such an action. In that particular case, your mistake ended up leading to the discovery of a witch who hadn't even been in our database. But such a windfall was merely luck . . . and luck is a fickle thing.

"As for your decision to bring someone into the office who has neither the authority nor the approval to be here--I can't imagine your training at headquarters could have been so inept as to deserve the blame. You should have known better. In fact, I think you did know better." He paused, narrowing his eyes at her and rising from his chair. Walking around the desk, he stopped in front of it, barely a pace away from her and sat down on the edge. "The question then becomes, if you knew you were breaking Solomon's rules, why would you choose to do so? Did you think you could escape punishment for your actions?"

Robin looked like she was at a loss for words; he had successfully backed her into a corner. Trying desperately to come up with a response to his questions, she opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out. "I'm sorry," she said finally in a near whisper. "I just wasn't thinking . . ."

"Well, we can't have hunters who don't think, now can we?" Zaizen snapped coldly.

"I'm sorry," she gasped again and her eyes were becoming glassy with repressed tears.

"Apologizing hardly rectifies the problem though, does it?" He forced her to suffer the wrath in his glare for several long moments before relenting. "Nevertheless, the mistake _has_ been made and cannot be unmade. But if it were to be made again, I might have to reconsider your status at the STN-J as a hunter. I'm sure Hattori could use some help organizing old files or cleaning up the office." He watched her fearful gaze turn into an angry frown, and he had to admit that she did have spirit despite her gentle, reserved demeanor. Yet that same spirit was one of the things about her which worried him.

"But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said finally. "Until then, I expect you to do a better job following orders, and to spend a little more time thinking about your actions _before_ you make them. Also, there is to be no more contact with this 'Dante.' Ever. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she replied dejectedly, her gaze dropping to her feet.

"One last thing," he added, pushing away from the desk and raising her gaze to meet his own with a forceful grip on her chin. Her eyes were wide again with surprise and fear. "I am allowing whatever it is that's going on between you and Amon to continue for the moment, but I do not want unpredictable emotions like 'lust' or 'love' to start interfering with our ability to work as a team. If, at any time, I see personal feelings interfering with your work, I will terminate your association immediately. Understand that I have already briefed Amon on this subject, and he will follow my orders even if you fail to." Not entirely true. Amon had already failed to follow orders and to keep his emotions separate from his work when it came to her, but she needn't know that information. It was true that Amon had been briefed, but on a different set of orders--not the ones Zaizen was giving Robin. It was dangerous game, playing the two of them against each other, but the goal was to keep them both off balance; they would be easier to control as long as they were unstable.

Releasing her chin, he turned away and picked up his cigar again, puffing bluish grey smoke into the thick air of the hushed room. "You can go now. We have a lot of work to do yet to find this witch." He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she turned to the door before hesitating and looking back at him.

"I was wondering, Director . . . how is Touko?"

_Now how did she find out about that? _Zaizen wondered as he looked back at her hastily, unable to hide his reaction. _Amon? Would he have told her? If the answer is yes, then I may have more to worry about than I thought._ _It could have been Michael, though. The hacker had seen him leave the office with Touko in his arms after all._ "She is fine," he replied curtly, deciding it would be of no use to lie about his connection to Touko now. "She is somewhere safe. I'm afraid she won't be returning to the apartment you share until this witch has been captured."

"I see . . ." Robin replied quietly. "I'm glad to hear she's okay."

_I'm sure you are._ Zaizen watched the young hunter leave his office with a wondering expression. She never ceased to surprise him. Perhaps that's why she bothered him so much. He hated surprises with a passion.

-----

"You want me to what?!" Michael cried in disbelief, staring at the visage of the man in front of him as if he had never met him before. "Amon, are you sure you're feeling better? Maybe you still have a fever or something . . ."

Amon's cloudy grey eyes darted around the room, probably to note how much attention Michael's outburst had drawn. He leaned closer to Michael and said in a soft voice, "I am both fully recovered and in my right mind, Michael. You can't tell me you weren't already tempted to do exactly what I'm suggesting before I said a word."

"Yes," Michael admitted, lowering his voice, "but I can't believe you are the one asking me to do it. The Boss gave us direct orders."

"And I have chosen not to follow them," Amon replied in a whisper. "The responsibility for disobeying orders now belongs to me since I am ordering you to break them."

"Somehow I don't think the Boss will see it quite like that . . ."

"Whether or not we continue working with Dante, we are all going to continue hunting Beatrice. And, because we are working on the same case, we will have contact with him again in the future, no matter how you look at the situation. It is redundant for us to continue the search separately." Amon's attention had strayed to the computer screen in front of Michael.

"Why do you suddenly want to work with Dante?" Michael asked suspiciously. "You were against it in the beginning."

Amon's dark eyes darted back to him and his frown deepened. "I was against using our database to help outsiders. At the time, I was also unaware of any connection between the witch he was hunting and our own case. The risks of sharing information with him no longer matter at this point since the harm, whatever it may be, has already been done. It is pointless to back out of the situation at this point. Regardless, I would rather be apprised of what Dante's planning than be worried about the possibility of his plans sabotaging our own simply because we are unaware of them."

"And Robin . . . ?"

Amon's eyes narrowed. "What about her?"

"Nothing." Michael sighed softly.

"So, I need those extra headsets," Amon prompted finally, "and the location where Dante's staying. Do you think you'll be able to put that switch I asked about in the system to shut off the recorders during a mission?"

"I think so," Michael replied, still reluctant to disobey such strict orders with the bruises from Zaizen's last punishment still fresh on his body. "But it will only stop the recorders. What if the Director walks in during the middle of a hunt, or stands over my shoulder and watches?"

"I think he will soon be a little distracted," Amon answered enigmatically, rising to his full stature and taking the slip of paper Michael had used to write down Dante's contact information. He met the curious gazes of his coworkers impassively. "I need to take care of a few things. I suggest the rest of you get busy searching for Beatrice's hideout. We will regroup at Harry's around lunchtime and decide on our next plan of action."

"What about Robin?" Doujima inquired. Fresh from a haranguing from the Chief, she had wandered into the room somewhere in the middle of Amon's statement.

"She can stay behind and help Michael organize the information he's been gathering. We can't afford any more mistakes."

"I don't really need any help--" Michael began, but Amon didn't let him finish.

"Tell her to meet us at Harry's at noon." Without waiting for a response, Amon turned and headed for the elevator, his trench coat swirling around him.

"Geez, what crawled up his butt?" Sakaki asked of no one in particular when Amon was gone.

"'We can't afford any more mistakes.'" Doujima quoted with a sigh. "He really is Michael."

"What?" Michael cried, glancing at Doujima in annoyance.

Rolling her eyes, Doujima replied," Not you, dimwit. _You're_ Birkof . . ."Pulling on her white jacket, she wandered off in the direction of the door." Are you guys coming?"

"I swear. She's crazy," Michael muttered as he watched her leave.

-------

**So, what didya think? Huh, huh, huh? Did you panic when Zaizen called Robin into his office? I know we didn't get a whole lot of AmonxRobin tension, but don't worry, next chapter I promise to include more. Part of the reason for the delay in posting this chapter is that I've been inspired to write on a chapter beyond this one and I didn't want to end up writing myself into a corner here. It took me awhile to make sure everything jived--hopefully it does. Luckily for you though, this means that the story isn't going to just stall out and stop without an end since I am already looking ahead. I just have to write the in between stuff. And would somebody please tell me why every story I write has to turn into a frickin' novel? **

**Oh, one last little random comment, incase anyone's interested. When Karasuma said, "Refill girl duty," I was thinking of a real event that happened to me when I was working as a front desk receptionist at an eye doctor's office (which is a LOT more work than you would think and involves much more than answering phones). The office provided coffee out in the waiting room for patients, and one patient had the gall--on a really busy day, no less--to inform us the coffee pot was empty by shouting at me, "Refill girl! Where's the coffee?" And she expected me to drop everything and get it right that second. In the end, it turned into a little inside joke at the office. Then there was that joke about Tootsie chews, but that's for another time . . .**

**Anyway, on to reviews!**

**To Chibi Tenshi: I'm glad you could appreciate the X-ness. X imagery can be very inspirational, if you know what I mean . . .that's okay if you don't really get Dante's dream. So long that you got the Beatrice is a bitch and has evil plans, then you're fine. Yeah, I couldn't help myself with the pink tutu. I agree that there are so many possibilities left by the series, maybe that's why all us fanfic writers are obsessed with exploring them!**

**To GoWaitInTheCar: Where are you drawing your info about Virgil from? I know it's been awhile since I played the first game, but I don't recall getting a lot of detailed info about Virgil. And, though I never finished the second one (due to various distractions), I didn't think he showed up in that game. If your knowledge of Virgil is coming fromDMC3--I haven't been reading too much about it because I don't want to spoil myself. So, because I realize DMC3 will likely conflict with how I've portrayed things here, I decided to pretend it doesn't exist for the purposes of this story. If, on the other hand, I completely forgot something about Virgil in the first game and have read too many fanfics to keep it all straight, I do apologize. But hey, I said this was going to be kind of AU anyway! That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it. Though I am still curious . . .  
Sorry to hear you hate Trish. I don't mind her too much myself, and I'm not sure if Lucia's going to show up simply because I don't know all that much about her. But we will get to see Dante in his devil form. Oh yes.**

**To Tsukinoko1: I hope you enjoyed Doujima's Nikita obsession. Somehow I could just see her liking the show . . . Wish I could have worked in the guy in the garage as Walter. Maybe later. **

**To Pyrosa: Ah, Oedipal Complex . . . can't help but think of a severely disturbed Farscape episode. But, yes, I think I agree with you on the Trish issue. Though they say we often look for our parents' characteristics in potential mates, I don't think they meant physically. Yeah, can't you just see Sakaki secretly watching Utena? The idea really cracks me up. And now I feel I need to draw a picture of Amon in a tutu.**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Hmm, interesting idea. I may take part of it though there's a reason Amon can't beat Zaizen up--you'll find out why . . . That is of course, unless I change my mind on that point. Still a possibility. Like I said, there will be more sexual tension soon. Very soon. Some of it's already written.**

**To Dark Mistress Meli: I think I would have a heart attack riding with Amon in a car. And I can just imagine him with road rage. Scary thought.**

**To Tiger of the Wind1: Thank ya! You're too nice to me. :) I hope you enjoyed the new chapter--sorry it took me so long to update!**

**To Kyra Invictus Black: I've tried very hard to keep the feel of the series (though my story has a bit more humor) and I'm glad to hear you think I've succeeded. I have been buying the DVD's but I want new episodes! Sigh. Yeah, Robin talks a good game, but we'll see how much she's "given up" soon enough. And poor Touko . . . she never even had a chance. :) And believe me, there will be a cheery ending. **

**To Yukari Youkai: Mmm . . . chocolate. Would someone actually pay me to write dream sequences? That would be cool. Hadn't decided exactly what Robin dreamed about, but that's a good idea . . .**

**To Sakura Rain: I made you cry? Oh dear, I feel guilty now. But it's also quite a compliment that it affected you so deeply. Thank you. **

**To ShiroKitsune: Yes, Utena is so fun to parody. I still wish I could have worked in the car wash from the movie though. It's classic. **

**To Aliora: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed the dreams. Like I said, dreams are one of my favorite things to write since they reveal things about the characters which the characters themselves might be reluctant to admit. Auron's awesome. And I just had to give him the opportunity to shut Tidus up. If you like FFX parodies, you might check out a fic called the Case of the Missing Jug. It's extremely amusing.**

**To Ann: I apologize to your household for my responsibility in the laughter that caused you to wake up everyone at five in the morning, but I still find the situation pretty damn funny! Yeah, I really need to draw a picture of Amon in a tutu now. Thank you for your other comments too. I enjoy the juxtaposition of dark and scary against really quirky and silly. It strengthens both aspects simply by contrast. **

**To devoid69: Yeah, Sakaki was having dirty thoughts. Bad boy! But it's so much fun. I plan on hinting more at their relationship in the future. And anime people need to wear different clothes sometimes! That's always driven me crazy.**


	17. Your Side, My Side, Your Side, MY Side!

**Author's Note: **

**I just realized I don't know why I put an author's note in here. I don't really have anything to say. Except this: Hi. Oh, and I feel like sharing my joy that Yahoo mail finally got its head out of its ass and decided to increase the mailbox size. It's about frickin' time! Random, I know.**

**Oh yeah . . . I just thought of something else to say! Farscape fans may recognize the chapter title as one of Stark's most recognizable quotes. Now, on the off chance anyone reading this _is_**** in fact a Farscape fan, I must throw in another quote because Scorpius is awesome and I can't mention Farscape without giving him due respect. "Kill her! Then we'll have pizza . . . and margarita shooters."**

**Wow, this chapter was a lot shorter until a few minutes ago. I just went on a writing spree and it almost doubled in length. Hmm, I may regret posting it without reading it with a coherent mind (it is 1 am right now, after all) but I've decided to take a risk. I'll repost if it has a lot of errors. **

Chapter 17

Your Side, My Side, Your Side, MY Side

Robin's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when she saw that Michael was the only one left in the office other than the Chief and Hattori. As she wandered forlornly toward her place amidst the empty desks, she saw Michael look up at her out of the corner of his eyes, his fingers frozen above the keyboard. Slowly, he reached up and pulled out one earphone, watching her anxiously.

She found herself staring vacantly at Amon's empty chair, knowing the action would make her feelings all too obvious, yet unable to look away. "Have they all left already?" she inquired quietly, still feeling Michael's gaze on her.

"Yeah. But I um . . . I asked Amon if you could stay behind and help me with some, uh, things." She glanced over to see him leafing through papers on his desk desperately. "Like this." He held up a small stack of papers tentatively with a forced, uncertain smile. "I printed out a bunch of information about ancient symbols like the ones Beatrice has been using, but I haven't had a chance to go through it yet. I thought maybe you could--"

"You didn't really ask Amon for my help, did you, Michael?" Robin felt her expression tighten with a mixture of anger and hurt, but instantly regretted her inability to hide the emotions when she saw him react with a slight grimace. "He intentionally left me behind, didn't he?" Saying the words aloud brought the reality of the fact home. In one night she had undone every bit of progress she had made since her arrival in tearing down Amon's walls. Glancing down at her clothes, she smiled sadly as she realized it wouldn't have mattered what she chose to wear today. Amon had already rebuilt the barriers between them, making them even taller and stronger than they had been before. Zaizen said he would allow whatever was going on between them to continue, but the truth was that there would no longer be anything going on at all. She didn't know why the fact hurt her so deeply. Her mind had already predicted how Amon would act today, but her heart had refused to believe. She had even deluded herself into thinking she would have to make an effort to push Amon away so she could keep her hormones in check. Such an effort was not needed now, it seemed.

Michael's gaze dropped to the papers in his lap. "I'm sorry, Robin," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault." She found herself untying the ribbons in her hair and allowing the strands to fall loose around her shoulders, though she wasn't sure what had prompted her to do such a thing. She refused to believe she was merely giving in to the temptation to test Amon's resolve now that she knew his intentions. She refused to believe she could be so fickle. Besides, Amon wasn't even here right now to see her with her hair down. Returning her attention to Michael and reaching out to take the papers still gripped in his hands, she heard herself say, "I don't mind spending the day with you, Michael."

A spark of emotion flashed through Michael's eyes as he looked up at her, but he hid it away again quickly. She inwardly kicked herself as she realized she had intentionally provoked his reaction simply because of some childish wish to make Amon jealous. She didn't want to use Michael like that. Prentending he had noticed, Michael revised her statement neutrally as he handed her the printouts, "Just the morning. You're supposed to meet everyone at Harry's at noon."

"At Harry's?" she asked in surprise.

"For lunch," he answered nonchalantly. Then, glancing around the office, he leaned closer to her and murmured, "To meet with Dante."

Her vision clouded for a moment and she turned away from him to hide her fear. "I can't," she murmured.

"What? Why?"

Clutching the papers tightly as she pulled out her chair and slowly sank down into it, she caught sight of his startled expression out of the corner of her eye. "I just can't," she answered simply.

Michael glanced in the direction of Zaizen's office before pushing himself away from his desk and rolling his chair over to her. "Robin," he whispered urgently, his face only a few inches from her own. A blush washed across her face as she looked up at him and saw how close they were. "The Boss . . . he didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," she answered quickly, shaking her head with vehemence.

Exhaling in relief, Michael combed his fingers through his unruly hair. "Good. Because if he had--"

"Michael," she breathed, catching his arm to get his attention. "Please, promise me you wouldn't put yourself in more danger because of me."

His eyes widened. "Did you lie to me just now?" he gasped.

"No! I just don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."

"Amon," he murmured in understanding.

She looked down at her knees in shame. "Amon injured Touko because he was protecting me, and we only started working with Dante because I got him involved. I'm the reason Zaizen was angry, and both you and Amon got hurt because of decisions I made." Raising her gaze to meet his again, she continued with determination, "I refuse to be the cause of any more pain."

Managing a small smile, Michael said in the softest of whispers, "You couldn't be. Amon and I have both decided to continue working with Dante despite Zaizen's orders. We are responsible for the consequences, not you."

Robin opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of a throat being cleared loudly made her pause. "This isn't recess on the playground," Chief Kosaka growled, looking out from his office at them with his hands planted firmly on his hips. "Don't you two have work to do?"

"Yes, sir," Michael answered quickly, glancing back at Robin with a reassuring smile and touching her hand lightly before rolling his chair back to his desk.

"That's better," Kosaka huffed. "This is a place of work, not a social club."

A smile tugged at the corners of Robin's mouth as she turned back to her desk and looked down at the reports Michael had given her without really seeing them. Michael had said that both he _and_ Amon had decided to continue working with Dante. The idea of Amon making such a decision seemed preposterous, and yet she couldn't help but wonder if he had done it for her. She shook her head. _Foolish. The longer I perpetuate the fantasy, the harder it will be to accept the truth. Amon has made his decision. The sooner I accept it, the better._

------

The sound of the opening theme from Lupin the Third being reproduced in annoyingly high pitched tones at a hazardously loud decibel level jarred Dante out of his foggy half-sleep. Several moments passed before he actually connected the bizarre sound with his cell phone and found the presence of mind to realize the horrid ringing would stop if he answered it. Cracking his eyes open ever so slightly and squinting at the harsh light spilling from various gaps around the curtains as well as the crack beneath the bathroom door, he rolled over and dove across the now unoccupied side of the bed to the crumpled pile of leather on the floor which constituted his clothes. Fishing his phone out of the mess, he snapped it open quickly with a sigh of relief when the ear-piercing tune cut off abruptly.

"Dante," he grunted in greeting as he fell back on the bed in exhaustion.

"We need to talk," a smooth baritone voice replied just as brusquely. Dante immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Rambo and found himself wondering once again how he had gotten himself involved with Robin and her crazy friends. That wasn't entirely fair, he supposed; he got along well enough with all the other witch hunters--even Miho had warmed up to him eventually. It was only the dark, brooding man on the other end of the phone right now who was the problem. Whatever Robin saw in Amon to redeem his surly attitude and haughty air was completely invisible to Dante.

Unable to refuse the temptation to irritate the humorless hunter, Dante found himself smirking as he commented, "Well! Good morning, sunshine!" Then, lowering his voice with gravity, he continued with a tight smile, "How exactly did you get my number? It isn't in the book."

"Michael," Amon answered tersely. Dante could imagine Amon's expression: his eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. Actually, come to think of it, didn't the man always have that expression? "We have a couple leads on Beatrice's whereabouts. I have one I want you and your partner to investigate."

Dante choked on a laugh. "Is that so? Since when did you become my master? I don't take orders."

"I am the lead hunter at the STN-J. If you wish to make use of our resources and combine with our efforts on this hunt, you will have to make some sacrifices." Stunned by Amon's gall, Dante found his hangover-impaired brain struggling in finding a response. Amon sighed softly, but began speaking again before Dante had the chance to voice his annoyance. "Listen, I know you have no reason to trust me . . . but I have little reason to trust you either. You may have gained Robin's trust, but Robin is rather impressionable."

"I don't think you give her enough credit. She's more perceptive than you seem to think." Dante's voice had hardened and acquired a chill edge.

"Robin _is_ very perceptive . . . I never said she wasn't. But she is also young and credulous. She wants to believe the best about people."

"Exactly what are you implying?" Dante noticed Trish poke her head out of the bathroom, a curious expression on her face, but he waved her away and shook his head ever so slightly with a scowl. Raising a dubious brow and rolling her eyes, she returned to the bathroom to finish primping--or whatever it was women did to get ready in the morning that took so damn long.

"You have not been entirely truthful with us," Amon commented, bringing Dante's mind back to the conversation. "I did a little digging this morning and learned some interesting things about you. Could you explain to me what a half-demon is doing hunting demons?"

Sitting up in bed quickly enough to make his alcohol-abused head spin, Dante retorted coldly, "Now, that really isn't any of your business. My reasons are my own, but I never lied about what I am. I never claimed to be something I'm not. What difference should it make to you, anyway?"

"Quite a bit, I should think, when one considers the relation between you and Beatrice. When did you plan on informing us we were hunting a half-demon, not a witch?"

Dante's mouth opened, then closed again. He had been so busy trying to ignore Beatrice's claims of kinship that he hadn't fully considered how much her possible ancestry would change things for the witch hunters. Hunting demons had become second nature to him, but they weren't trained for such an endeavor. "I don't know . . ." he answered finally, hating the fact that Amon had scored a point on him so easily.

"Then how can you possibly expect me to turn leadership over to you?"

Fuming with anger, Dante realized he had no choice in the matter right now--yielding to Amon's command would simply cause the least amount of bloodshed. But he refused to cede control over the situation completely. "Fine. Tag. You're it," he bit off irritably. "But you only make the final decision when it concerns Beatrice's witch followers. I am the expert on demons here, and _I_ make the final decisions when it comes to her. Are we clear?"

Amon paused before answering, and Dante smirked. Score one for the demon hunter. Finally, Amon's voice broke the silence. "I'll accept your terms, so long as you understand this: if any of your 'final decisions' put my people in unnecessary danger, we're out."

"I wouldn't think of putting any of them in such a situation. I may prefer working alone, but that doesn't mean I'm only capable of thinking of myself. I have a partner of my own, and if you ask me, I have a far better grasp of how to work with others than you've proven you have."

"Oh, really?" Trish demanded loudly enough for the phone to easily pick up her statement. He glared up at her. She merely glared back, her arms crossed over her chest and her blue eyes sparking with fire." So, partners are supposed to go off and try to tackle hunts entirely on their own even though their ego's bigger than their brain? Who the hell are you talking to, Dante? I'll have to set them straight on your so-called prolific knowledge of partnership." She had leaned close enough to the phone for Amon to hear every word on the other end despite Dante's attempts to cover the microphone. Dante could just imagine the smirk on the witch hunter's face.

Clearing his throat, Amon stated dryly, "I can see your point." Score number two for the cold-hearted bastard.

"Thanks for your help, Trish," Dante snapped softly. The blonde simply smirked and spun away, her hair billowing around her. Some days he wanted nothing more than to wring her slender little neck. It seemed like they spent more time arguing than they did doing most anything else--except of course for the time they spent making up. Returning his attention to the nuisance on the other end of the line, Dante said frostily, "My point, if I had been allowed to make it--"

"Was about Robin . . . and my maltreatment of her." Dante's eyebrows furrowed at Amon's change in tone. What was this sudden, strange emotion tingeing Amon's voice?

"Yeah." Dante replied hollowly; Amon's quick acknowledgment had taken the steam out of Dante's accusation.

"It's ironic you should bring her up." He paused, as if considering whether or not he should continue. "She is, in fact, the other reason I called you."

Suspecting where Amon was going with this, Dante replied quickly, "Hey, if you're asking me to back off, there's no need. I'm not interested in the babe like that--"

Amon interrupted him again, "You misunderstand me. My request is actually quite the opposite. Robin's interest in me is foolish at best--dangerous at worst. I treat her coldly and keep her at a distance to protect her. I have no wish to hurt her, but it is inevitable for this situation to bring her pain." He paused a second time and Dante was glad Amon couldn't see him shaking his head in astonishment. Amon didn't seem like the kind of guy who shared his personal life freely with anyone, especially someone he didn't fully trust. But perhaps, in this case, it was easier for Amon to confide in him only _because_ he barely knew him. "I believe she would listen to you if you encouraged her to forget about me."

"Damn." Still stunned by Amon's admission, Dante considered his answer for several long moments. He had to admit he was feeling a sudden respect for the man's willpower. Dante barely knew Robin, but he was unable to refuse her when she turned that vivid green gaze on him--and she didn't even look at him the way she looked at Amon. How did Amon manage to push her away, especially when his feelings for her were as strong as his voice betrayed? "I'll do what I can, but I don't know how much she will really listen to me. The girl's in love with you, and it doesn't take a genius to see she can be stubborn when she wants to be."

"I know," Amon whispered. "All I ask is that you try."

"I'll do it. But are you sure this is what you really want?"

Amon laughed sardonically, but did not answer Dante's question. "We are meeting at Harry's at noon to discuss our next step. I had Michael text message you the location I want you to investigate during the two hours before then. If you have any questions, call my phone or Karasuma's. _Do not_ call the office. We're violating our Director's orders by continuing to work with you, Dante. Don't put us in a position that will make us regret doing so."

"Yes, sir," Dante replied sourly. "I'll see you at noon then." Before Amon could issue more orders, Dante hung up and lay back on the bed with a sigh, tapping the phone's antennae against his lips thoughtfully.

Trish wandered back into the room, now fully dressed in tight black pants--surprisingly, not made of leather--and a clinging sapphire blue tank top. Tiny, diamond-studded clips held back small sections of her platinum hair on either side of her head and another stone sparkled from the black choker around her neck. She sat down slowly next to him on the bed and smiled quietly as she drew light patterns over his bare chest with one finger.

Dante raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you were angry with me."

Still smiling, she stated serenely, her words at odds with her tone, "I _am_ angry with you. Sometimes you really drive me crazy."

He scoffed at her. "The feeling's mutual."

Her smile widened. "Unfortunately, you inspire _more_ than just anger in me. Causes quite a problem."

This time it was his turn to smirk. "Sounds like a real dilemma." He raked his fingernails up her thigh, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin even through the fabric of her pants. "I think I might know how to solve it."

"Not now, Dante," she warned playfully, pressing her palm against his chest when he started to sit up again. "First, I want to know what's going on."

"Rambo's pulling rank on me."

"Rambo? You mean the guy who didn't show up last night? He sounds like a real basket case."

"He has control issues. But . . . I don't think he's such a bad guy. We managed to come to a bit of an understanding."

"Really." She sounded dubious. "What kind of understanding?"

"He has the final say in his area of expertise, and I have the final say in mine."

"So, in essence, you drew a line through the middle of the room and assigned sides. As long as you stay on your side and he stays on his everything is okay." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I'm glad to see you're handling this like a mature adult."

"Exactly what part of our compromise is immature?"

Rolling her eyes as she rose to her feet and stretched like a cat, she replied, "You're such a male."

"I should hope so."

"Are you ever going to get dressed and get down to work?" she asked in exasperation as she crossed the room to the window and threw open the curtains, filling the room with the dangerous radiation otherwise known as sunlight. Dante shielded his eyes and groaned in pain. "Oh, get over it. Your a demon remember? Not a vampire. Anyway, all I'm saying is that this hunt isn't going to just hunt itself. Beatrice isn't going to just walk through the door and say, 'Here I am. Come and get me!'"

At that moment, an authoritative knock echoed through the room. Trish spun around in surprise and glanced at Dante who only returned her expression with a shrug and raised brow. Frowning, she marched across the room and answered the door. Dante, in the meantime, reached for Ebony and Ivory and rose from the bed fluidly, pressing himself against the wall parallel to the door and listening to Trish greet their visitor.

"I have a message for . . . a Dante Sparda," a male voice explained, stumbling over the name nervously. "It arrived this morning."

"Thank you," Trish said sweetly.

"N-no problem."

The door closed and Trish peeked around the corner at Dante who had relaxed his pose though the guns were still grasped loosely in his hands. Her eyes scanned over his unclothed body quickly before she offered a sealed letter to him with a smirk. "Bootygram for Mr. Sparda."

She pulled it out of his grasp with a mischievous expression when he reached for it, and he shook his head slowly in amazement. Trish was really asking for it today. Growling softly, he dropped his guns to the floor before snatching her around the waist and then tackling her to the bed when she tried to twist away. Pinning her down with the lower half of his body, he pulled the letter out of her hand with a grin and broke the seal. His grin faded when he saw the message scrawled in ornate, feathery penmanship.

"What is it?" Trish asked, straining to see the piece of paper he was tempted to crumple in his hand.

"You were wrong about Beatrice. This is personal letter from her inviting me 'to my funeral.'" His smirk returned slowly, though with a heavy twist of irony. "I hate to admit it, but she does have style."

--------

**Why is Trish suddenly dressing like Nikita too? sigh I blame it on lizalou42 for letting me borrow her Nikita DVDs. And if you're wondering why this chapter was so Dante centered, you can blame that on my temporary writer's block which forced me to pull out Devil May Cry again for inspiration. That's probably where Dante's comment on Beatrice's "style" came from since playing the game again reminded me of the stylish ratings. It also didn't help my DMC inspiration when I did a random image search and came across some _really_**** pretty fanart for DMC on various Japanese sites. drool Now I feel like drawing some of my own. Actually, I feel like drawing some pictures to go along with this story in particular. I'm sure all of you would have good suggestions. Bring 'em on!**

**----**

**To Dark Mistress Meli: Like my friend lizalou42 said, it seems more and more of my personality is spilling into Doujima. Poor girl. Now you know how insane _I _****am. :) Interesting point about Zaizen. I think that fear is a driving force in many a bad guy's actions. At least "bad guys" of Zaizen's ilk. Even Amon's a bit afraid of Robin, I think, though I haven't exactly played that up much in my story.**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: I'd love to send you spoilers of the story except that lately I haven't been keeping too far ahead of my postings--and what I have written is so sketchy it's basically like notes to myself to be fleshed out later. Also, I have several different options in mind on how the plot's going to work itself out and haven't decided which path to take yet. I almost have to write myself through it.**

**It was cute how Amon was all concerned about Robin meeting with Zaizen, wasn't it? Aw. And I have read Ais' story and must admit first brought the phrase to my attention, but I had to put it in when I was making Nikita references because I just about died when I realized Michael (from Nikita) says it a lot too. Don't know if I'll make the two updates Friday. :) I have been a little stuck lately. My muse is being stingy with inspiration. **

**To Inuki: I emailed you all of this, but I'm posting it for anyone else who'd like to read the response. Some of the video game stuff was totally from the KLAD parodies written way back when, but this way I get to share it with more people which is always fun. Poor Amon. But it's true that those who often act the toughest and emotionless-est (wow, isn't that an interesting made up word) are actually rather down on themselves. I have not yet**

**revealed why Amon lets Zaizen beat him up, though I didn't just pull the whole situation out of my ass. There actually is a scene in the show that supports the beating up **

**thing though it implies more of a one time deal. I tried to plan ahead when I was writing so I knew where the story was going, but it also helps to have a good portion of the story written before you start posting. Yeah, I am twisted. I enjoy torturing characters. It's one of my favorite pastimes. Apparently I also enjoy torturing readers though, huh?**

**To Selenium: Sorry for my delays lately in posting. I promise I won't go months without posting, and I _will_**** finish the story--though who knows how frickin' long it will be by then. I've been saying I'm going to finish my original piece of fiction for a long time, but it just keeps getting longer! But, I've been fighting a lack of inspiration lately for the scenes I have to write before I get to the scenes I'm actually inspired for. Ah well. I'm glad to hear you feel like you can picture the scenes in your mind. I often feel like I'm watching a movie when I'm writing; I can see the camera angles and the transitions between scenes and I act out all the parts in my mind. Sounds freaky, I know. But I have a vivid imagination. What can I say? I'm just glad to hear other people can enjoy at least some of it through my writing. More AxR soon!**

**To Tsukinoko1: I'm glad you enjoyed the Nikita references. Yeah, aside from the romance area, Doujima totally fits as Nikita. I'm going to have fun deciding on her clothes from now on with the Nikita inspiration. **

**To Chibi Tenshi: Thanks for the compliments! Glad I could make your day with an update. And it's fun to be able to share my Nikita obsession at the same time as my WHR and DMC obsessions. Oh, and various other video game obsessions. Gee, this fanfic is just turning into one long list of my obsessions. Yeah, Amon is being a dork. And he would probably murder us both for calling him that. But we don't care, do we? And I rewarded you with Dante antics in this brief chapter. I hope you approved. I actually own part of Doujima's "Nikita" outfit--the skirt--though I probably don't look as cute in it as she or Nikita would. **

**To Tiger of the Wind1: I am shamed. And I think the Frying Pan of Doom is a great idea. Reminds me of "Particle Man" by _They Might be Giants._**** "Person man, person man, hit on the head with a frying pan . . ."**

**To GoWaitInTheCar: No worries! I was just curious because I couldn't remember any more details about Virgil from the first two games. I'm interested in hearing what your insider contact knows about the new game though I will pretend I didn't learn anything to change my view of the DMC universe when I'm writing my fic just for consistency.**

**To busoshwe: Funny you should mention Sakaki being Walter--it did cross my mind. I also considered Kosaka as Walter because he's a bit of an old pervert. :) I don't know if I can give Auron up, but I can let you have the rest. Though you should hear my David Bowie impression. It's pretty silly. I could also claim a few other people, but the reality is that most anyone I truly cannot live without has character equivalents in my original fiction which I can claim complete ownership over. Convenient, eh?**

**To Aliora: Do not be ashamed. I saw such random episodes of Nikita when it was on that I feel like I've never seen it before now that I'm watching them in order. I like subtlety myself, so it relieves me to hear others enjoy it as well. If you're up for another recommendation--this time for published fiction--I am really influenced in my writing by Cheryl J. Franklin and the way she develops relationships between her characters. If you like sci-fi at all, you should check her books out. _The Inquisitor_**** is a good one to start with. They're a little hard to find, but they're worth it. Jase Sleide (the lead male character in _The Inquisitor)_**** is worth it. **


	18. Strategery

**Author's Note:**

**I think Touko injected me with something. I have a fever. Of course I have all the other symptoms of an annoying summer cold as well, but I want _somebody_**** to blame! Needless to say, I hope my writing doesn't sound fever-induced. But I don't think it's too bad since I wrote most of it before the fever hit.**

**A couple things . . . This chapter includes a brief reference to the namesake for my screen name--Yellow Dancer--a character from the third Robotech series. If you've only watched the Macross series, Yellow Dancer, or Lancer, is voiced by the same actor who played Max in the first series. Bad English voice acting but somehow really funny and strangely addictive. It's so cheesy its good. Anyway, not sure exactly what inspired me to choose the name except that it was different from what I usually use and the character is, well, quirky. Just wanted to explain that up front so people won't infer things about me because of the character's, ah, oddities. Wow, for a brief reference, I sure wrote a long explanation. But, hey, that's me . . .**

**I got a bit plot heavy in this one, but it has occurred to me that I am on chapter eighteen, after all, and it's about time I move the plot along a bit more. Next chapter will actually have some action! Can you believe it? Strangely, I've had the next chapter mostly planned out for a while now, but I just got carried away with the in between stuff. Like I'm getting carried away now. hits self on head a la Touru from Fruits Basket See ya at the bottom of the page!**

Chapter 18

Strategery

"Robin," Michael said quietly, interrupting Robin's thoughts despite the softness of his voice. "Don't you think you should be getting to Harry's?"

Eyes glazed from reading so many reports, Robin blinked up at the clock in surprise to find she was already ten minutes late for the lunch meeting. Panic swept over her at the realization Amon would be annoyed with her tardiness, but the panic was quickly followed by satisfaction due to the very same thought; she was annoyed with _him_ at the moment, after all. She might as well return the favor. Rubbing her strained eyes, she rose from her chair and stretched the knots out of her cramped muscles leisurely. "Here are those reports, Michael," she said, handing the stack of papers back to him.

"Did you find anything?"

"Not really. Something keeps tugging at the back of my mind, but I haven't been able to pinpoint it yet. The symbols all make sense in context, but there is something strange about their arrangement."

Michael smiled up at her encouragingly, though she sensed the smile was meant to hide the emotions lurking in his eyes as much as it was meant to reassure her. "Maybe taking a break will help." She caught the hint of bitterness in his voice and realized the source of Michael's concealed emotions; Michael desperately wanted to be able to come with her to Harry's and participate in the meeting, but leaving the building was not an option for him. Guilt accompanied the revelation as she thought about how she had been indulging in self-pity all morning long because Amon had left her behind when Michael was forced to endure the same feeling every time one of them so much as walked out of the office.

"I wish you could come with us," she murmured, not entirely sure if he would appreciate the comment.

He shrugged and quickly returned his attention to his computer. "It's no big deal."

Nodding reluctantly, Robin started heading for the door, only to be stopped by Hattori as he wandered into the room with an armful of mail. "Miss Robin, it looks like there's a package for you."

"A package?" Chief Kosaka asked, peeking out of his office curiously. "For our little Robin? Could it be from a secret admirer?"

Taking the small parcel with a frown, Robin examined it cautiously. There was no return address, nor could she find any postage, suggesting it had been hand delivered. But who would hand deliver a package for her? With only a few moments of hesitation, she tore open the brown packing paper to reveal a small wooden box and a folded note. Unfolding the paper, she was surprised to find it was completely blank on both sides. How odd. She knew she should have been more cautious, but the lack of explanation was fueling her curiosity, and she soon found herself turning her attention to the box and snapping it open eagerly. Her eyes widened when she saw the blood red crystal nestled inside, watching in awe as glimmers of light reflected off of it in brilliant flashes.

"Oh my," Hattori cried. "It's beautiful."

"What is it?" Michael inquired with a strange mixture of emotions in his voice--as if he were taking Chief Kosaka's offhand remark about a secret admirer a little too seriously.

Robin lifted the crystal gingerly out of its velvet prison and almost dropped it when she felt a sudden jolt of energy surge up her arm. Opening her hand, she looked down at the stone again, mesmerized by the way light danced over its angled surfaces. "It's a crystal," she breathed finally in response to Michael's question.

"A crystal?" Michael obviously had not been expecting that answer, and was unimpressed. "Why would someone send you something like that?"

"I don't know." A thought occurred to her and she opened the note again, gazing down at the blank paper. Focusing her craft, she reached out with a tendril of power and gasped when a strange sensation washed over her--almost as if a key had been turned in a lock. Tiny flames burnt a path across the paper in the shape of glowing letters, spelling out four words: "You belong to me." With a cry, she dropped the paper involuntarily and it burnt to ashes at her feet.

"What was that?" Michael demanded, and she heard him stand up anxiously.

Slightly dazed, she replied faintly, "I--I didn't mean to do that."

"What did it say?" Hattori asked curiously.

_What **did**__ it say? I read it just a second ago._ _Why can't I remember? _"Nothing. The card was blank."

"And you don't know who it was from?" Michael persisted.

"No." Suddenly Robin remembered what she had been doing before the interruption. "But solving the mystery will have to wait until later. I need to get to Harry's." Putting the crystal back in its case and sliding it into her pocket, she headed for the elevator quickly, half-turning back to thank Hattori on the way out. She saw Michael's eyes following her as she left, a wary expression on his face.

------

By the time Amon arrived at Harry's, almost everyone was gathered in the private room Master Harry had set aside for their meeting at Amon's request. Sunshine flooded the small space, spilling in through a wall consisting almost entirely of windows and casting gossamer shadows against the opposite wall. As he entered, Amon swept his gaze over the room quickly to assess who was still missing, a frown darkening his features when he accounted for everyone but Robin.

"Hi. You must be Amon," a sultry feminine voice said from behind him, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a tall, slender blonde standing near the door with her hand offered in greeting. Her clothing clung to her lithe body in a way that reminded him vaguely of Touko, and her pale hair framed her shoulders like a golden halo--though the mischievous glint in her eyes made it clear she was far from angelic. "I'm Trish, Dante's partner. Nice to meet you." He nodded, but did not respond verbally. Her lips turned up at the corners slightly as she shook his hand, and he had the distinct impression she was laughing inwardly at some private joke. She caught him by the sleeve when he started to turn away, murmuring in his ear, "I hear you're the one who put Dante in his place so efficiently this morning. I have to admit I'm impressed. Not everyone can do that and survive the experience."

Uncertain how to respond, Amon was grateful when she pulled away and found a seat at the table, still smiling faintly. As he approached the table himself, Amon noticed Dante regarding him skeptically, the half-demon's pale blue eyes darting back and forth between Amon and the lissome blonde. Suddenly Amon realized why Trish had been smirking; she had likely been intending to create just such a reaction in Dante by whispering in Amon's ear. He kept his expression carefully impassive, not wanting to get involved in any jealousy games between the two, even if they were only in jest. Heading toward the empty seat between Sakaki and Karasuma, Amon scanned his other companions' expressions before sitting down slowly and gathering his thoughts.

"So . . . what's the plan, oh fearless leader?" Dante prompted dryly as he slouched even further in his chair, one ankle resting on top of his opposite knee.

"Shouldn't we wait for Robin?" Karasuma reminded, but her statement was hardly necessary since at that moment Harry ushered the craft user into the room.

Amon did not acknowledge Robin's entrance, though he had no choice but to look at her when she sat down in the empty chair at the opposite end of the table--directly in his line of sight. He noted her wheat colored hair falling loose around her shoulders and wondered at it. Remembering her meeting with Zaizen, a possible reason for her change in hairstyle occurred to him and he found himself clenching the arms of his chair in dread, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightened. But Zaizen wouldn't go so far as to hit Robin, would he? No. Zaizen was too afraid of her powers to risk her retaliation. Nevertheless, Amon couldn't shake his fear that Robin was hiding something behind those loose strands of hair.

Ruthlessly shoving his worries aside, he focused on the duty at hand. Objectively, he stated, "Now that everyone's here, we can get started." He felt Robin's eyes glaring at him but avoided meeting her gaze. Turning to Karasuma, he inquired, "Miho, did the three of you make it through the list of locations Michael gave us?"

"We did. But this witch is incredibly organized. She's been one step ahead of us the whole time. We found evidence of her recent presence at all the locations, but no clues to where she is now. She's covered her tracks well." She paused, considering her last statement, then added, "Almost too well. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if she's merely leading us on a wild goose chase to keep us distracted. She couldn't have possibly been hiding out in _all_ of these locations within the last few days--but she could have planted evidence at all of them just to suggest that she had been."

Amon nodded. "That's a possibility I've been considering." He shifted his focus to Dante. "What did you find?"

"At the location Michael sent me? Nothing. But you might find this interesting." He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his coat and slid it across the table to Amon.

Eyebrows furrowing, Amon slid the paper closer and lifted the top flap after noting the broken wax seal imprinted with the image of a raven. He scanned the text quickly, feeling a frown settle on his face. "When did you receive this?" Amon asked when he was finished, glancing up at Dante.

"This morning--just after we got off the phone, actually. One of the hotel employees brought it up to my room, but no one seemed to recall seeing the person who delivered it in the first place--not even after I attempted to jog their memories."

"Threats and intimidation aren't the only ways of getting information, Dante," Trish lectured, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah? Well they didn't start talking when you fawned all over them either. In fact, I think they forgot more than they remembered."

"What does it say, already?" Doujima demanded finally, her curiosity getting the better of her. Amon slid the letter in her direction dispassionately. Sakaki and Robin leaned closer to her as she opened the letter, reading over her shoulders. Making a face, she read a line aloud, "'You are cordially invited to your funeral.' How tacky is that?"

Smirking, Trish glanced at Dante and murmured, "Apparently threats and intimidation run in the family."

"Does she really think you'd fall for this? It's a total setup," Sakaki commented.

Dante shrugged. "Doesn't look like we have a lot of other options. She doesn't want to be found unless it's on her terms. And, trap or no trap, we're running out of time."

"I don't like it," Amon said firmly. "It doesn't make sense for her to send you a message right now. All she has to do is remain hidden for one more day to put her plan into action. She has nothing to gain by making contact with you since it merely gives us more information to use in finding her."

"Does she have a personal grudge against you, Dante?" Karasuma asked.

"Hell if I know. Maybe she just wants to get rid of me so I can't possibly interfere in her little ceremony once it gets started. My guess is that she'll be most vulnerable at that moment since she'll be distracted; and an untimely interruption could probably ruin the whole thing. Maybe she doesn't realize we have no clue where she is and thinks we're more of a danger to her than we are at this point."

"Or maybe she just likes poking fun at us and taunting our hunting abilities with this little invite," Sakaki offered with a wry grin.

Sitting back in his chair and tracing an index finger over his lips thoughtfully, Amon mused, "We may not have been able to find _her_, but we have found several of her supporters. Between the witches we have sent to the Factory and the ones Dante has killed, she's lost quite a few followers. Without their power at her disposal, she might not have enough energy to open the gate. She is in need of replacements, and, like us, she is running out of time." He paused and his brows contracted. "Might she intend to use you?" Amon asked Dante pointedly, ignoring the curious stares his question drew.

"Maybe." Dante bit his lower lip and shook his head slowly as he continued, "My power would be useful to her, but she would have to have control over it to use it. She knows I'm too stubborn to make such a thing easy, and I could just as likely use it against her before she gets the chance. But really, I don't get the idea it's _my_ power she's after anyway."

"Wait a minute," Karasuma interrupted. "What power are you talking about? Are you a craft user?"

"Heh, not exactly . . ." An uncomfortable smile crossed Dante's face as he met Karasuma's focused stare. Karasuma turned her gaze on Trish who looked away quickly, fidgeting in discomfort.

"Well?"

"He's a demon," Amon supplied finally in impatience.

"Half-demon," Dante corrected quickly.

Silence fell as Dante drew the astonished gaze of everyone in the room--everyone but Amon, who was staring blankly at the highly polished surface of the table, and Robin, whose troubled visage was reflected in the table's veneer as she stared fixedly at Amon. Slowly, Amon raised his eyes to meet hers, surprised when she refused to look away despite his attempt to intimidate her with his unyielding glare.

"Wait a minute," Doujima cried suddenly. "Beatrice called you her 'dear brother' in that letter. If she's your sister, that makes her--"

"A half demon as well," Dante finished for her. "Yes. According to her claims, we share the same father--a demon named Sparda who turned against his own kind and saved the human world from destruction. The very thought of her claim to my father's bloodline is revolting."

Recovering more quickly from the shock than the others, Karasuma asked quietly, "If she isn't after your powers, whatever those may be, then whose power _is_ she after?"

Dante glanced at her before turning his attention to Robin who merely blinked back at him, startled by the sudden focus on her. Amon's eyes narrowed, but he did not comment on Dante's silent conjecture, listening mutely as the others debated it.

"Robin?" Sakaki cried. "Why would you think Beatrice is after her?"

"Several reasons," Dante replied quickly, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table. "One of which being the fact that Beatrice manipulated her roommate and used her to attack Robin."

"But Touko only attacked me when I found out she was the one causing Amon's fever. I attacked her first," Robin countered quietly. "And she was after Amon, not me."

"Unless Beatrice was merely trying to get Amon out of the way," Karasuma speculated.

"Why?" Sakaki asked, dumbfounded.

"Because she knew he wouldn't let her get anywhere near Robin," Doujima stated as if the answer was obvious. "Geez, Haruto, you can be so dense sometimes." Amon threw her an annoyed glance, but she either failed to notice it or chose to ignore it.

"Oh," Sakaki replied slowly, "So what you're saying is that Robin is like a Summoner and Amon is like her Guardian." Turning his attention to Amon, he scratched his chin pensively. "But which Guardian would he be? Squall wasn't in that game. Not Tidus, obviously--or Kimahri. Maybe he's Wakka, ya?" Sakaki laughed alone at his joke since no one else had a clue what he was babbling about. "No. He'd be Auron, I suppose, though he still has both his eyes. Maybe if I found a log--"

"You said you had several reasons to think Beatrice is targeting Robin," Amon interrupted quickly, redirecting the conversation and returning the focus to Dante.

"Yeah . . ." Dante scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think Beatrice entered one of my dreams last night. I don't know how, but hell, I suppose she basically wrote the book on manipulation--what's one more form? Anyway . . . she wasted most of her time trying to persuade me to join her cause, but along the way she mentioned something about Robin's power. She doesn't seem to be worried about anyone getting in the way anymore, so I'm guessing she has some new trick up her sleeve."

Amon turned his attention to Robin, only to be puzzled by the expression on her face as she gazed down at her hands clasped on her lap. He had seen her make the expression a number of times in the past, though it usually presaged an important revelation about their target witch. Most of the time, her discovery would come spilling out of her lips almost before she had fully conceived of it, but he could tell by the determination in her eyes now that she did not intend to share this particular bit of insight with anyone. The realization worried him. Robin was not one to withhold information when it was important to a hunt. Why would she choose to do so now?

"The Director seemed to think Beatrice would go after Robin too," Doujima mused suddenly, interrupting Amon's thoughts and causing him to look at her askance, surprised by her shrewdness when she appeared to be so oblivious most of the time.

"Yes," Amon agreed reluctantly. "He did."

He felt, rather than saw, Robin's intensely green gaze look up at him suddenly, focusing on him with razor-edge sharpness. "Amon knew too. Didn't you, Amon? That's why you left me at the office this morning," she murmured. "You already suspected Beatrice was after me."

The breath in his lungs had evaporated with the intensity of her gaze, forcing him to take a deep breath to replace the missing air. "I suspected her plans, yes," he answered succinctly when he finally found his voice, ignoring all the attention focused on him. _But my suspicions were only part of the reason I left you behind_._ Or have you realized that as well? _

Sighing in frustration, Sakaki broke the charged silence. "Well, what are we going to do now? Are we going to crash Beatrice's little party? I could write a touching eulogy for a funeral."

"I'm going regardless," Dante answered quickly. "And you'd better be writing Beatrice's eulogy, not mine."

"I'll have Michael find out all he can about the location in that letter this afternoon," Amon said in agreement. "We'll meet this evening beforehand to discuss strategy. In the meantime, I suggest we all get some rest."

"And how about some lunch?" Sakaki grumbled. "I'm starving."

"What a whiner," Doujima complained.

"I'll go find Harry," Karasuma said in exasperation, likely only making the offer so she could avoid more bickering between the two hunters; Amon pitied her the hours she had already spent working with them today.

"Hey, Robin," Doujima said slyly when Karasuma was gone. "Why made you decide to let your hair down?" Amon tried to appear as if he was not paying attention though he was actually watching the girl's reaction carefully from behind the cover of a few well-placed tendrils of dark hair. Robin shrugged noncommittally, but it was obvious Doujima's question made her uncomfortable. "Do you want me to fix it for you?" Digging around in her purse, she pulled out a couple narrow black ribbons and a brush. "These should do the trick."

"That's not necessary, Doujima," Robin replied a little too quickly and Amon risked a less obscure look at her, brushing the hair out of his face. Robin seemed to be full of secrets this afternoon.

"I insist!" Doujima turned Robin in her chair to face her and then started brushing through her loose hair, dividing it down the middle. Amon almost sighed in relief when he saw Robin's pale skin was unblemished by bruises. Worries alleviated, he should have been able to turn his attention away, yet he found himself continuing to watch as Doujima pulled one half of her hair, and then the other, into pigtails, wrapping the ribbons around the gathered hair in a crisscross pattern just above Robin's shoulders.

"It's rude to stare, you know." Amon jumped ever so slightly when he heard the soft voice chuckle in his ear. He glanced over his shoulder to see Trish leaning against the back of his chair, looking down at him with a knowing smile. "Isn't she a little young for you?" she murmured raising an eyebrow, utterly oblivious to the hazardous nature of her question.

Temper flaring, Amon started counting to ten very slowly. To his surprise, Dante came to his rescue before he could say a word, flicking Trish on the back of the head. "Leave him alone."

"What's your problem, Dante? Jealous?"

"Now, if I got jealous every time you advertised your wares to another man, I wouldn't have time left over to do anything else. And personally, I think there are more important things to do in life."

"Right. Like flirting with every cute female who crosses your path." She grinned suddenly. "Of course, I suppose they don't all have to female, just feminine. Remember that lounge singer we ran into that one time?"

"Hey, that person had absolutely no business being a man. And I figured out exactly what _he_ was long before any damage had been done."

"What was his stage name again? 'Yellow' something . . ."

"Dancer. His name was Yellow Dancer."

Unable to stand the casual bantering any longer and feeling an intense need to be alone so he could think, Amon rose from his seat and reached across the table to grab the letter from Beatrice. "Do you mind if I take this with me?" he asked Dante who merely shrugged in response. "I'm going back to the office so Michael can get started researching."

"You should at least eat something before you leave," Karasuma mothered, returning just in time with Harry to interrupt his escape.

Nevertheless, Master Harry, with the perceptiveness of an experienced bartender, sensed Amon's need to leave. "I have some food already prepared if you would like to take it back with you. There's enough for you to take some for Michael as well."

"Thank you," Amon replied gratefully.

Nodding, Harry smiled in understanding. "If you'll wait at the bar, I'll just get their orders and then be right out with the food for you."

Amon was on his way out the door almost before the man had finished speaking, avoiding the curious stares watching him as he made his exit. So relieved to be escaping the room, Amon neglected to pay as much attention to his surroundings as he should have. As a result, he was almost to the bar before he noticed the soft footsteps treading along behind him.

"Amon?"

He nearly groaned in frustration at the sound of Robin's quiet voice. Only half turning back to her, he snapped, "What is it, Robin?"

She paused, frowning at his gruff tone. Then, visibly gathering her courage, she asked, "You aren't going to let me go on the hunt tonight, are you?"

"No," he stated, his tone brutally decisive. "It would be better if you stayed at the office this afternoon as well. You'll be safer there." Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw the downcast look on her features and instantly regretted giving in to the desire to observe her reaction. He leaned one elbow against the bar, turning his attention to the rows of bottles and glasses lined up neatly on the shelves behind the bar as he desperately tried to distract himself.

"This makes things convenient for you, doesn't it?"

He had to turn to look at her to verify she had been the one speaking--for a moment, she hadn't even sounded like herself. Eyebrows drawing together, he inquired softly, "What are you talking about?"

Shrugging, she replied, "You can avoid being around me this way." He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He honestly did not know how to respond to her statement. "It's okay," she whispered faintly after several long moments, reaching out and touching his arm lightly. "I understand." She turned to leave, her expression unreadable

"Robin." _What am I doing?_ he wondered, mentally kicking himself. _Am I just a glutton for punishment?_ Taking a deep breath, he pushed away from the bar and turned to face her again. Surveying the room quickly, he decided to step closer to avoid being overheard. Now close enough to easily touch her, he bowed his head slightly, hiding his lips from anyone watching with his hair; he doubted Zaizen had spies here, but he couldn't be too careful. "Is there anything you know about Beatrice that you haven't shared with the rest of us?" **(A/N: Haha! Fooled you! What did you think he was going to do? Actually, I didn't realize how strongly I had implied clears throat something else until I was rereading this)**

He didn't like the mixture of hurt and disgust his words evoked in her response. "No. Of course not. I've been at the office all morning going through miscellaneous reports, remember? I haven't really had the chance to learn anything more about her. But even if I had learned something, I would have told you. _I_ don't hold back information like that." She was clearly implying his own failure to share information, but at the moment he was more concerned with the fact that she still hadn't told him whatever it was she had figured out during the meeting.

"You're certain?" he insisted.

"Yes," she almost growled in response, surprising him with her ferocity. He had never her seen her this temperamental before, though he had to admit he was pushing her rather hard. "If that's all--"

Catching her arm lightly as she tried to pull away from him, he whispered, "One more thing." He could feel his expression softening despite his attempts to keep his emotions at bay. "Promise me that if Zaizen ever tries to hurt you, you won't hesitate to use your craft against him and protect yourself." He wasn't sure why he was making an issue of this right now, but her reactions were worrying him, and the worry was spurring him to gain some kind of assurance from her that she would look after her own safety. After all, he may have been protecting her from Beatrice by forcing her to stay at the office, but Zaizen was a possible danger as well, and leaving her at the office would give the Director access to her.

Her eyes were wide with confusion as she looked up at him. "Amon . . ."

"Promise me!" he repeated urgently, knowing Harry would return any moment and needing to hear her say the words before they were interrupted.

"I-I promise," she stuttered uncertainly still gazing up at him in wonderment.

He nodded, releasing the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Backing a few steps away from her to stop himself from doing something foolish, he stopped cold when she mirrored his movements and followed him. To his dismay, she leaned toward him and pushed herself up on her toes, stabilizing her balance with a hand on his shoulder. _No!_ He almost allowed his instincts to shove her away roughly, but he couldn't quite bring himself to be so cruel. Luckily, she did not intend the level of intimacy he had been fearing. Instead, she merely placed a delicate kiss against his cheek before dropping back down on her heels and walking away without another word, a sad smile curving her lips.

Taking a breath again, Amon found that he had to lean against the bar now simply to simply remain standing. _What is wrong with me? I just about had a coronary over what turned out to be nothing more than a peck on the cheek. But she can be so unpredictable at times . . ._

"Here are the lunches for you and Michael." Amon glanced up to see Harry standing behind the bar next to the carry case his words had indicated. The bartender was smiling quietly and Amon wondered suddenly how long the man had been standing there. Dismissing the thought as irrelevant, he grabbed the handle of the case and dug out money for the lunches. "No need," Harry stopped him. "They're on me."

"Thank you," Amon murmured. "In more ways than one," he felt obligated to add before turning and heading for the door. He felt Harry's eyes watching him until he turned the corner of the hallway.

--------

**Dude, is Robin PMSing or what? Hee, hee, hee. JK. It's fun to see her toying with him a little bit though, isn't it? Even if there are some--well, I don't want to spoil anything, though it's probably pretty obvious . . .**

**Oh, one other quick note: when Sakaki was talking about Amon still having both his eyes and looking for a log, I was referencing something Lizalou42 will likely kill me for. For some reason, ever since that log took out Chichiri's eye in Fushigi Yuugi, logs have become the instrument of choice for eye removal.**

**Cartagia: I do not like the way he is looking at me. I know! Pluck out his eye!**

**Author: Did I address you, oh crazy Centauri emperor man?**

**Cartagia: Soon to be crazy Centauri god man when I am elevated to godhood! It will be marvelous. **

**Author: Oh, just eat your sniks and talk to the decapitated heads on your table.**

**Sorry if I disturbed anyone with that little interruption. It's a Babylon 5 thing that you just have to see to understand. Anyway, let's get to the reviews . . .**

**To Tiger of the Wind1: I bet you'll be shaming some more people (well, probably the same ones all over again) after this chapter. Everyone's just acting so shamefully. But just wait until the next chapter! Here's another Farscape quote for you: "It feels like it's melting my brain . . . it couldn't actually be melting my brain could it?" Oh, and thank you for the compliment, but you shouldn't doubt your own writing abilities. Besides, I think I have a few years experience on you. Let's just say I'm closer to Amon's age than I am to Robin's. :)**

**To Jewel of Tasuki: Thank you! I love Michael too. He'll be all right. And I have to comment on your screen name now and say that Tasuki kicks ass. **

**To Chibi Tenshi: Dante is fun, isn't he? And I'm glad you enjoyed the Michael/Robin stuff. It wasn't something I'd had much of a chance to write so far. The Dante/Amon conversation was oh so much fun to write as well. I had just refreshed myself on Amon dorkness by rewatching a few episodes not too long before I wrote it and I guess his personality came through. Sorry I didn't mention what the "scoobies" ordered at Harry's. But it would be kind of interesting to know, wouldn't it?**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: I try to avoid spoilers unless I know I'm going to have to wait for frickin' ever to find out what's going to happen. Then, to hell with spoiling myself. I have seen the new Dante. Mm-hmm. Evil Robin? Hmm. You'll just have to see, won't you? grins evilly Hee hee hee. Was that obvious enough? No Nagira unfortunately, but I do miss him a lot. The next fic I write is definitely going to include him.**

**To Kim "Shadow Fox" Klein: Good question. How does Amon do it? How does he make us love him despite the fact that we want to beat him to a pulp half the time because he's being such a "dork" as Chibi Tenshi puts it? Maybe we're the gluttons for punishment.**

**To bec: I'm very flattered to be grouped with "The Burning Time" since it's one of my favorite stories. I'm just as amazed as you are by how well Dante fits despite the fact he's totally unconnected, but I don't think I would have kept him in if he hadn't since I don't like crossovers just for the sake of putting all one's favorite characters in one story. He does make things interesting though . . . And Farscape rocks! I am SO pumped for the mini-series. What a bummer that you won't be able to see it until '06. But I understand. There's a novel that comes out this November that I've been waiting on for almost three years.**

**To lizalou42: Was it fun reading a chapter for the first time on the website instead of having to read it while I sit and stare at you? The Dante and Amon conversation scene went differently than I had at first imagined it, but I'm really happy with how it turned out. The power play thing was totally going on and it allowed me to use the Stark quote as the chapter title which was something I'd been wanting to do for awhile. :) I'm happy with getting the chance to describe Trish more too. And I worked in "Bootygram" after all! The Michael/Robin cuteness was the last minute addition I made. I had been wanting to write the scene but hadn't been inspired until around midnight! Then it just sorta happened. Dunno if liking Birkof influenced me at all since Michael doesn't really act that much like Birkof. But you never know.**

**To Inuki: It sounds like you've really got that parody figured out. I was cracking up like a crazy person here in the office when I read it. Oh well, I guess they're used to my weirdness by now. But I think you should write it because I don't know if I could do it justice. Then you need to send it to me, because I want to read it!**


	19. Caged Bird

**Author's Note:**

**So, I lied. This isn't the chapter with the action. BUT, I have been working on that chapter. Unfortunately, it still needs a lot of work. And then I had an inspiration for this little interlude chapter. I so enjoy interludes. In fact this story is turning into more interlude than anything. :) But I thought it was only fair to give you a little something to tide you over while I'm working on the action chapter.**

**I apologize in advance for a reference to another TV show (though not as elaborate as prior references) but somehow such allusions have become a shtick of this fanfic. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the original fiction I used to put all my writing energies toward is set in an entirely fictional world which allows me absolutely no connection to the real world. I'm taking advantage of the opportunities this fic give me. But if it pisses anyone off, please let me know and I will cut back on it. I've tried to make sure the references are not necessary for understanding the story and that they only add another layer of meaning which can be overlooked. I guess it's just the part of me that enjoys writing parodies coming out to play.**

Chapter 19

Caged Bird

"Well, babe, you've got to admit this is a lot better than being held captive in that office all day long," Dante said with a smile as he stretched out on the grass in a pool of sunlight, soaking in the warmth of the day. His smile widened as a refreshingly cool breeze stirred the tendrils of silver hair spilling across his face. "What a beautiful day," he murmured.  
  
"It _is_ beautiful," Robin admitted, adjusting her skirt as she sat down on the grassy hillside next to him, closing her eyes as another breeze stirred the air and danced through the budding branches above with a soft rustle. "But I don't think Amon would be very happy if he knew we were sitting so exposed in the middle of a park like this."

Dante cracked open an eye at her as he stretched his arms back and rested his head against his palms. "Well Mr. Control Freak doesn't need to know, now does he? It's not like Beatrice is going to come and mow us down in broad daylight like some kind of supernatural weed whacker; it would be a waste of her time and effort since she already has a trap set for tonight. Besides, paranormal baddies always do their bad deeds at night, remember? That's rule number one in the evildoer's handbook."

"I guess I never read that one," Robin replied with a smile, pulling her knees up to her chin.

"Tsk, tsk. How can you ever know your enemies and learn how to predict their moves if you don't even read the handbook?"

"I don't suppose you know where I could get a copy of it to read, then?" she asked, turning to look at him, laughter sparkling in the green depths of her eyes.

He found a grin spreading across his face. "That's the trick, isn't it? But I can't just give away all my secrets."

The sound of a soft growl of frustration coming from the park bench a stone's throw away drew Dante's attention for a moment. He watched as Sakaki sat up on the bench suddenly, his growl turning into a roar as he angrily shook the GameBoy in his hands. "Damn Dracula and his minions of evil!" Then, before Dante could say a word in response, Sakaki flopped back on the bench again with a sigh and fell silent as he continued playing.

"That kid really needs to get a life," Dante observed, pushing himself up on his elbows. "So," he began, turning to Robin, only to be interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing. He was sad to admit he recognized the ring as the theme song of some TV show Trish had gotten addicted to watching in reruns; it took him several long moments, though, before he realized the ring was coming from _his_ cell phone. "Damn that woman," he grumbled as he reached into his pocket for the phone, "downloading rings all the time just to piss me off . . ." Flipping open the phone, he answered it with a sigh, trying to rub away the headache already forming around the bridge of his nose. "Yo."

Without preamble, the voice on the other end of the phone demanded, "Is Robin with you?"

Repressing an ironic bark of a laugh, Dante looked at Robin with a smile twitching on his lips. She had not noticed his attention as she stared out at the pond below them, her chin resting on her knees and her expression pensive. "Would it be a problem if she was?"

Amon sighed softly. "Apparently there was a misunderstanding. I was under the impression she was coming back to the office after lunch, but Karasuma returned over an hour ago and Robin is still missing. It isn't safe for her--"

"No, she isn't safe," Dante interrupted impatiently, "but don't you think Beatrice could find a way to get to her even at the STN-J if she can enter people's dreams at will and mysteriously deliver letters without anyone noticing? Robin won't be safe until Beatrice is a bloody carcass on the floor. That's the cold, hard fact. And that fact remains the same whether Robin's sitting caged at your office or sitting in the park enjoying the beautiful day. Shouldn't she be allowed to enjoy the sunshine?" His words had finally drawn Robin's attention; he could see her frowning at him in concern.

"This decision falls under my jurisdiction, Dante. Not yours."

"I thought I made the decisions concerning demon behavior. My conclusion is that Beatrice will not act until tonight. Therefore, Robin is relatively safe until then."

"This is not a discussion."

Shaking his head in amazement at Amon's nerve, Dante felt his free hand turning into a fist as he ripped a handful of grass up by the roots. Annunciating every word crisply, he stated, "You are such a hard ass." Then, sitting up so swiftly that Robin jumped in surprise, he continued, "Tell me, does it keep you up at night knowing there are people in the world who are actually smiling, laughing and enjoying life? Do you lose sleep over all the lives you have yet to sap the joy out of? I'll bet you're some kind of depression vampire, aren't you? You must feed on misery and despair."

Ignoring Dante's comments with an infuriating amount of control, Amon replied coldly, "If Robin isn't back at Raven's flat in half an hour, I'm coming to get her."

"Gasp. You? Walking in the park?" Dante cried mockingly. "The very thought gives me shivers. No thanks. I would hate to ruin such a beautiful day for all the people out here enjoying it by letting you show up with gloomy thunderclouds in tow." Grumbling in frustration, Dante finally conceded, "Fine. Your little bird will be back in her cage soon." Hanging up before Amon could make another comment which would annoy him further, Dante sighed deeply, hating the fact that he had lost another point to the cold-hearted witch hunter.

"I suppose we should be going, then," Robin said sadly before he found a way to explain why he had given in to Amon's demand so easily. "I have to get back to my cage," she added with an ironic smile.

"How do you do it?" he found himself asking without thinking, looking at her in bewilderment.

"Do what?" she asked, curiosity crossing her features.

"Put up with his shit all the time? I mean it's his way or the highway twenty-four seven. Don't you get tired of it?"

Smiling quietly, she replied, "Of course. But he's just trying to protect me right now. I can forgive that."

"And the rest of the time? Do you forgive his attitude when he's being a stubborn asshole just for the hell of it?"

She returned her attention to the pond and a glint of ruby light caught his attention; he noticed a red crystal in her hand, catching the light as she turned it over and over again fretfully. "Amon doesn't do anything without purpose," she said finally, her voice faint. "I'm sure he has reasons for everything he does."

Disturbed by her response, Dante remembered what Amon had said to him on the phone earlier in the day, and remembered his own promise with a twinge of guilt. Robin's easy acceptance of Amon's cruelty was troubling, and spoke of deeper feelings than Dante had realized she held for the dark hunter--feelings which would get torn to shreds by Amon's attempt to change her mind about him. Her fixation with Amon was definitely not the healthiest thing for her. "Robin," he began slowly, frowning when she didn't even turn to look at him when he said her name. Reaching up to turn her face with a gentle grip on her chin, he forced her to meet his eyes. After assessing her confused expression, he continued, "Has it occurred to you that you deserve better?" His voice dropping to a whisper, he added, "Has it occurred to you that _he_ doesn't deserve you?"

Her eyes had widened and her eyebrows rose sharply in unease. Suddenly her gaze flicked to his lips before returning to his eyes, and he realized with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was close enough to feel her breath on his skin and she had obviously noticed--and misinterpreted it. _Good job, Dante,_ he lectured himself. _Make her forget about her interest in Amon by making her think **you're**__ interested in her. Brilliant._ Very uncomfortable with their proximity now, though it had been purely platonic in his mind a few moments before, he hesitated from pulling away quickly as he realized such an action would likely give her a wrong impression as well. _Shit!_

The sound of a familiar voice being cleared, accompanied by a soft, girlish giggle solved his dilemma for him, though not in a way he might have liked. Determined not to allow his feeling of awkwardness to show, he refused to move away from Robin, simply looking in the direction of the giggles; Robin clearly did not share his determination since she seemed to shrink away from him though he retained his light grip on her chin. Trish stood on the path below them, her hands resting on her hips and her lips pursed. Doujima stood a few steps behind her, holding her stomach as she tried to repress her laughter. Bags of various shapes and sizes hung from their wrists like oversized bracelets, trophies of their shopping expedition.

"Well," Trish stated, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't this interesting . . ."

Sakaki peeked over the back of his park bench, blinking at them in surprise.

Undaunted, Dante grinned before placing a light kiss on the tip of Robin's nose and releasing her chin. Pulling away unhurriedly he settled back on his elbows in the grass again. "Robin and I were just having a little heart to heart. Nothing to be jealous of, Trish . . . unless you really are that insecure."

"Hardly," she replied with a tight smile.

"I see you had a good time spending all of our hard-earned money," he commented, nodding at the shopping bags.

"Yeah!" Doujima answered for her excitedly, climbing up the grassy slope to drop down next to Robin. "They were having a sidewalk sale!"

"Wow," Dante commented quietly. "And you bought it? I didn't think concrete was your thing."

Following Doujima slowly, Trish hit Dante over the head with a handful of bags for his bad pun. "Don't bother talking to him about it, Doujima. He's too thick to understand shopping for pleasure."

"But there are so many other ways to find pleasure," Dante replied, as he leaned forward and caught one of her bag-laden arms gently, slowly placing a kiss on her wrist.

"So I've seen . . ." she said coyly, pulling her hand out of his grasp and glancing at Robin.

Eyes wide, Robin sputtered, "Really, it wasn't--"

Smiling apologetically, Trish stopped her. "I know. Don't worry, Robin." Eyes flashing, she looked back at Dante before planting one high heeled boot on the grass between Dante's legs and pushing his knees apart so she could turn and sit down between his legs, leaning back against him with a sigh. "It was just too perfect of an opportunity to irritate Dante."

Wiping golden strands of hair out of his face in annoyance, Dante commented, "You seem to find plenty of opportunities to do that on your own. Speaking of that . . . what's with the new cell phone jingle?" The last words were murmured in her ear in a dangerous tone.

Laughing musically, Trish tilted her head back to look up at him. "Well, you are pretty much an immortal. I thought you could appreciate the irony."

"If there can be only one, maybe I should just kill you now and get it over with," he teased, placing a threatening hand against her neck.

"Ah, but who wants to live forever, anyway?" Her laughter actually made him join her with a soft laugh of his own, his touch on her neck turning into a gentle caress.

"You two watched Highlander?" Doujima inquired, leaning forward to look around Robin at them.

"_You_ watched Highlander?" Sakaki echoed in response, staring open mouthed at Doujima.

Shrugging, Doujima replied, "The swords and beheading may not have been my thing, but Amanda is my hero. Well, second to Nikita. But Methos is--"

"Wait!" Trish interrupted, leaning forward as well. "You've watched Nikita?"

"I don't believe this," Dante groaned. "I thought Trish was the only one who watched such sad excuses for television."

"Hey," Trish said sharply, elbowing him in the ribs. "I told you before. I missed out on a lot of popular culture during my years under Mundus' control. I'm just trying to catch up."

"Dante," Robin murmured softly, and he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was trying to remind him of his pledge to Amon to return her to the STN-J. She was far too responsible for her own good.

"Well, you three are just going to have to catch up on your own." Pushing Trish forward enough for him to get to his feet, he brushed off his leather pants hastily before reaching down to take Robin's hand and help her to her feet. "I have to get Robin back to the office."

"No funny business on the way," Trish called after them with a smile.

Lightly slipping his hand around Robin's waist just for show as he guided her in the direction of his bike, Dante smirked back at his partner. "Just keep telling yourself you don't have a jealousy problem, Trish."

"I don't!" she yelled after them.

Grinning, Dante murmured, "Right."

-------

"What kind of package?" Amon asked softly, stepping in front of the hacker to block the nearest surveillance camera's view of their lips as they spoke. He was truly starting to get paranoid. But he knew the full dangers of what he was doing by defying Zaizen's orders, and he would be cautious to the point of absurdity if his caution could keep his deceit hidden from Zaizen.

Turning away from the coffee pot and back to face Amon, Michael shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't see it very well. She said it was some kind of crystal."

"A crystal . . ." Amon echoed thoughtfully.

"Anyway, I thought you might have already known about it."

Raising an eyebrow, Amon considered Michael silently for several moments. "Why did you think I would have known anything about it?"

"Well . . . with everything that's been going on between you two lately, and the fact that it didn't have a return address or postage . . . and she was so reluctant to talk about it. I guess I just thought it was a gift from you. Like an apology or something . . ." Michael's expression had become increasingly uncomfortable as he spoke, until he finally just dropped his gaze to his coffee cup. "I guess I was wrong. It's not really your style anyway." Michael gulped down several swallows of coffee, coughing when the hot liquid burnt his mouth.

"Did the package come with any kind of message?" Amon kept his voice even and his face carefully bereft of emotion, determined to stick to the facts.

"There was a piece of paper inside, but Robin said it was blank."

"And that's all?" Amon inquired, observing Michael's expression closely and sensing he was holding something back.

Michael looked up at him over the rims of his tinted glasses. "It was kind of weird. She just . . . well, she set the paper on fire. She said she didn't mean to do it, but it still struck me as odd."

Odd, indeed. Amon glanced at the clock briefly. "Robin should be here any minute. I have a bad feeling about this crystal, but I have something I need to take care of before this evening. Keep an eye on her." Ignoring Michael's perplexed expression, he turned to leave but paused for a moment, adding, "And try not to mention any of the plans we discussed for the hunt to her either, if you can."

"Amon, you don't think--"

"I'm simply covering all possibilities. I'll be back in a few hours."

Amon didn't look back as he left the room briskly, focusing on the task at hand. He would come up with some way to safeguard the Robin situation later, but now he had more important worries to deal with. Zaizen rarely got involved in their hunts, but he had certainly taken an interest in this one and was likely to be watching it more closely than usual. His attention was unacceptable. He needed a diversion, and it was Amon's responsibility to arrange one--without leaving his fingerprints behind.

------

"Is everything in place?" Beatrice asked quietly, looking at the tool standing before her with a blank expression, his eyes empty.

"Yes. The traps are set, my lady," the man replied tonelessly.

"Good. And we have gathered enough supplies to keep our hunter friends occupied?" The man nodded. "Excellent." She turned her attention to the basin in front of her, plucking a few hairs from her head and adding it to the bubbling mixture. "You may go," she added, shooing the man away.

When he was gone, she pulled out a small dagger and pricked the tip of one finger, letting six drops of blood fall into the liquid. Stirring the mixture with a silver spoon, she smiled. "My witches brew," she laughed softly. "How stereotypical of me."

"Will it work, my lady?" a soft voice asked from the darkness.

Glancing at the foremost of her tools, a witch with a fair amount of power, she answered unwaveringly, "Of course it will work. Her power will be mine. The time for subtlety is over. Action is required if I am to gain her power in the time we have left." Drinking in the acrid smell of the concoction as it wafted up to her, she smiled. "This ritual of binding is a risk . . . but risks are unavoidable at this point."

"But . . . what about the crystal? Couldn't you simply use it to control her?"

Shaking her head at the man's density though she knew she didn't need her tools to be intelligent so long as they had the power she required, she glanced at him from beneath her dark lashes. She decided to explain her strategy to him only because she liked to hear herself speak; he would do as she wanted him to do whether he understood her reasons or not. Free will was no longer an option for her tools when she needed to use them. "The crystal is a temporary link--it can only be maintained for a short period of time, and it can be broken far too easily. It is merely a method of bringing her where I need her at a moment of my choosing. Then I can create a permanent bond."

"And the hunters. They must be eliminated."

"Yes." Straightening, she squelched the fire burning in the pit beneath the basin. "Two birds with one stone. Efficiency is essential at this critical time."

Reaching out to the connection she could still feel ever so faintly at the periphery of her perceptions, she whispered into the darkness, _Soon, my lord. Soon you will be free. All the elements are in place. The fire-witch's powers will tip the scales and tomorrow night the gate will open. The world will be yours as it always should have been._

-------

**Ah, cheesy bad guy point of view. I haven't written nearly as much bad guy stuff in this story as I normally do, nor have I done Beatrice as much justice as I probably should have. Only Zaizen has gotten the true "bad guy you love to hate" treatment. At least, I think so.   
The farther I go, the more AU this story becomes, but I suppose that was bound to happen when you set your fic in the middle of a series and want it to be longer than a chapter (and include characters from something else . . .). But I really wanted to use all the characters in WHR because I enjoy them all, and I liked the dynamic between them better earlier in the series for the ideas I had in mind. I hope I'm not getting too OOC though. But you'd all tell me if I were, wouldn't you? Anyway, why am I getting all introspective all of a sudden?**

**To Inuki: Don't know if you'll get to read the action part before you go to Texas, but I'll try to get it updated soon!**

**To Tiger of the Wind1: It's so much fun turning the tables on Amon. There will also be more opportunities for Amon angst and suffering soon. I've got it all planned out. BWAHAHAHA**

**To Kim "ShadowFox" Klein: Mmm. Popcorn. You have my permission to hit Amon with a big rubber mallet. But please, no permanent damage. ;)**

**To Amon's Anger of Darkness: Yeah, sorry I didn't get to the action yet. I'm working on it! But I gave you a little DxR, so you got your money's worth. Wait a minute--what money? I haven't gotten any money. Hey . . .  
Thank you for your compliment! I'm not so sure if I can say my story's better than the Burning Time, but I'm very flattered that you think so. My story is just so very _different_**** anyway, it's hard to even compare. And I didn't do nearly as much research as Misora has done, though my story might be almost as long by the time it's done because I am so wordy . . . But length does not equal quality.**

**To sailorsaturn12345: I'm glad you enjoyed the comparison between Kosaka and Mario and Hattori and Luigi. It just popped into my mind out of the blue and fit so well it even cracked me up. It might have had something to do with an OC Remix popping up in my playlist around the same time called "What the Funk!" which is a remix for Super Mario All-Stars. Its very amusing. You might check it out at ocremix.org.**

**To Aliora: I love Fruits Basket! It's one of the only animes that could make me bust a gut laughing and then reach for a kleenex because I was crying--all in the same episode. It's so well done. I think I've made more AMV's for that anime than for any other. It was very inspirational. But no fanfics unfortunately.  
Anyway, thank you again for the compliments and specific feedback. Chapter 14 is still my favorite, but I think it may be bumped down by some later stuff when I've finished writing it because I really like where it's going. I'm afraid I might be a little borderline PG-13, but my lizalou42 thought I was overrating it when I originally posted it as an R. So I have to monitor myself more closely to keep it at that rating so fanfiction.net doesn't freak out on me and pull a Strong Bad and say, "Deleted!"  
I was intrigued when you mentioned discussion about my fic at Harry's, so I found the forum and tried to find the postings about it--but I failed. Must not have been looking for the right keywords. I noticed that several of my favorite fic writers (misora and meris ann among them) are members of the forum as well. I think I may have to sign up sometime too!**


	20. Inferno: Part One

**Author's Note:**

**I know, I know, I know . . . "Part one." We all know what that means, don't we? But, this chapter was taking longer than I expected, and I was fighting a major lack of inspiration last week. Whine, whine . . . **

**The funny thing is that I already have much of the plot planned out for the rest of the story. Sitting down and actually writing it is the problem. It will happen--don't worry. I actually can't wait to write the chapter after Inferno: Part Two. Don't know what it will be called, but it will be angsty and happy. Wait . . . that doesn't quite make sense. But Amon will be forced to stop being an island for a while, which is always a good thing. "I am a rock. I am an island. And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries . . ." ÐSimon and Garfunkel**

Chapter 20

Inferno: Part One

The night was unusually warm, spring heavy in the moist air despite a brisk breeze whipping down the shadowy street as Karasuma climbed out of Amon's car. She had been surprised by the briefness of their journey from the rendezvous point at Harry's to this location, especially considering how close Harry's was to the STN-J. The proximity irked Karasuma. They had searched all over the city for Beatrice's hideout, only to find it had been so close to them all along--that was, of course, if the derelict theatre at the end of the street was in fact the demon's real hideout and not yet another false lead. Glancing at Amon as he shut his door and gazed pensively at their destination, she marveled once again at his swift decision to take Beatrice's bait when he knew it led to a trap; it was true that he had never hesitated to take necessary risks in the past, but she couldn't recall a time in recent history when he had risked so much on a hunt with so little certainty of success. Although, she had to admit this was far from an ordinary hunt in the first place.

A low whistle drew her attention, and she turned to see Dante regarding the theatre with appreciation as he strapped what appeared to be a sword on his back. "Pretty impressive digs," he commented.

"Is that what I think it is?" Karasuma asked, gesturing to the object on his back.

"Depends on what you think it is," Dante replied with a smirk.

"A sword . . ." she replied dryly.

He shrugged, "Hey, it's a weapon, isn't it?"

"Yes," Karasuma admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I hear people used them a lot back in the Dark Ages."

Smiling tightly, he retorted, "Listen, babe, you might think of it a little differently when you see it in action."

"Give him a break already, Karasuma," Sakaki agreed as he pushed away from where he had been leaning against Doujima's car. "It's cool." Turning to Dante, he inquired with excitement in his eyes, "Is there going to be a Quickening when you take Beatrice's head?"

"He isn't a video game character, Sakaki," Karasuma reminded; she was unsure what the rookie had meant about a "Quickening," but it was obvious such a cheesy term must have originated in one of his games.

"And we're not on Highlander, though Alastor does have a thing for lightning," Dante added, patting the pommel of his sword affectionately, though Karasuma understood his words even less than she had understood Sakaki's.

"Alastor? Don't tell me you named it," Karasuma muttered with a sigh as she turned away, her patience wearing thin.

"All my weapons have names, babe."

"Really?" Doujima asked eagerly. "What did you name them after?"

Blocking out the rest of the conversation, Karasuma wandered around to the other side of Amon's car. "Are we ready to move, yet?" she asked Amon.

Slipping a headset over her ear, Trish leaned against Amon's shoulder and echoed, "Yeah, I'm ready to get this show on the road."

A crease appeared between Amon's eyebrows when Trish moved closer, but he ignored her contact otherwise with more patience than Karasuma expected from him. Regarding him with a raised eyebrow, Karasuma wondered momentarily if he actually enjoyed the vixen's attention. _Maybe it will keep him from making a mistake with Robin, _she mused. "We're not ready yet," Amon stated curtly, unaware of her inner dialogue. "Michael still hasn't contacted me with the all clear."

"So we wait," Trish sighed, still leaning against Amon. Somehow Karasuma didn't think Trish or Amon would really mind the delay all that much. Karasuma, on the other hand, couldn't wait to get this hunt over with.

-------

Michael turned his attention toward the Director's office before checking the time for what must have been the thousandth time, repeating the anxious ritual which had kept him occupied for the past half-hour. Rapping his fingertips against the surface of his desk, he sighed in frustration and glanced over at Robin who was sitting silently at her desk and stroking a finger over something cupped in her hand. His brows knitted together as he watched her, knowing instinctively she was looking at that strange crystal again. Maybe Amon had been right to be worried about it. Still, Michael felt guilty for the part he had played in Amon's suspicions. It wasn't as if the tracker he had slipped in Robin's pocket on Amon's orders did any harm to her physically, yet he knew Robin would be offended by their lack of trust if she found out about it. Nevertheless, he couldn't ignore the possibility that the crystal was, in fact, from Beatrice, and that the demon intended to use it to get to Robin somehow.

Finally, after several more repetitions of his ritual, he saw the light in Zaizen's office turn off abruptly. Soon, angry footsteps were making their way down the stairs. Straightening in his chair, Michael looked up at Zaizen expectantly. "Is something wrong, Boss?"

Shrugging into his light coat, Zaizen growled, "I just got a phone call from the Factory. There's something I need to check into. Tell Amon to continue the hunt as planned." Without another word, the Director headed for the elevator with impatient strides.

Robin rose to her feet when he was gone and crossed the room to stand behind Michael's right shoulder. "I'm guessing that was what we were waiting for," she murmured, putting her headset on with one hand, her other hand still occupied with clutching the crystal.

Nodding silently, Michael accessed the security monitors in the garage and waited until he saw the Director's car disappear from view before punching the kill switch Amon had asked him to put in the system. Smirking with pride once he verified the switch had worked without a hitch, he turned on the connection to the team's headsets. "Peter to the six little pigs. The big bad wolf has left the office. Little Red Riding Hood and I are ready to play."

"Michael," Doujima asked dryly, "Why are you talking in code if the recorders are off?"

Shrugging even though he knew they couldn't see the gesture, Michael answered, "I dunno. I guess I'm just getting into this whole covert, disobeying orders thing."

"Don't get too used to it," Amon warned. After a short pause, he added, "We're in position. Do you have our location yet?"

Bringing up data from a global positioning satellite, Michael located them and watched the little blips on the screen which represented the hunters. "I have you. You can move at any time."

"Sakaki, Doujima, stay with the cars," Amon ordered. "We need someone on the outside in case we get surrounded. If we lose communication at any time you are authorized to enter the building. Karasuma, you have the access door on the south side of the building. Trish and I will move in from the east and west."

"And I have the north," Dante added with an audible grin. "I just love making an entrance."

"Let's move," Amon said coolly.

Superimposing the blueprints of the theatre as the blips on his screen approached it, Michael bit his lower lip nervously, counting the other blinking dots moving through the schematics. "There are guards all over the place," he reported. "Be careful."

"Just give us some warning if we're about to walk into one of them," Amon responded tersely.

"Good evening, gentleman," Dante's voice said as his blip came to a stop at the front entrance of the building. "Am I at the right place for a funeral?"

"You're just in time, Mr. Sparda," an unfamiliar male voice replied, picked up by the small microphone attached to Dante's jacket; they had decided he needed a less conspicuous way to communicate than the headsets everyone else wore, so Michael had rigged up a more obscure device for him to use. "Our mistress is waiting for you."

"Mistress, eh?" Dante said under his breath. Then, more loudly, "Bring her on."

"Please, follow me."

"Michael," Karasuma spoke up, "I'm inside the building, but there's a hallway that branches three ways. Which direction should I go?"

"Hold your position for now," Amon answered before Michael could say a word. "We need to make sure where Beatrice plans to take Dante first."

Silence fell for several minutes as they all waited and watched, only the sounds of footsteps and the wind rustling in microphones interrupting the quiet.

------

Outside the building, Doujima sighed, slouching back in her seat. Covering her headset, she glanced at Sakaki. "I wonder when Amon will finally decide to call us in?"

"Could be awhile. If he even calls us in at all," Sakaki replied with a shrug. "Why? Are you bored?"

"Maybe." Doujima turned to look at him, a smile spreading slowly across her face.

------

"Shit," Trish cursed suddenly, breaking the silence.

"What happened?" Karasuma demanded with annoyance coloring her voice.

"Um . . . I've got a problem," Trish answered calmly. "I can't move."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't move! As in, my feet are glued to the ground."

"Trish," Dante murmured under his breath.

"Did you say something, Mr. Sparda?" the voice of the man who had greeted Dante at the front door questioned, his voice muffled by his distance from Dante's microphone.

"No," Dante replied quickly, the raw buzz of what sounded like electricity causing static to surge through the headsets for a moment.

"Are you standing on one of those circles we warned you about?" Karasuma asked Trish in irritation.

"No," Trish snapped. "I'm not as blond as I look." She paused, and then amended, "Wait a minute. There's something--" She scoffed, and said with a groan of frustration, "There's a circle on the ceiling."

"On the ceiling," Robin echoed quietly, though she didn't look entirely surprised to Michael.

"Did you know Ogham wheels could be used that way, Robin?" Amon questioned, and Robin stiffened at the accusatory tone in his voice.

"I've heard of it before," she replied distantly.

"Regardless, we're aware of possibility now," Karasuma interrupted before Amon could say anything more. "And now we can avoid the danger."

"Unfortunately, it's a little late for _me_ to avoid the danger," Trish pointed out.

Still watching the blips on his monitor intently, Michael interrupted when he saw a few approaching Trish's location. "Trish, you have company on the way."

"Great. I'm still stuck. Any ideas?"

"Maybe," Robin murmured. "Can you describe the runes in the circle to me?"

"We don't have time, Robin," Michael stopped her urgently, pointing to the dots moving on his screen.

"Karasuma, start making your way to Trish's position," Amon ordered. "And look out for circles on the walls as well, just in case."

"Roger."

Splitting his attention between the dot which represented Karasuma and the dots signifying enemies closing in on Trish's location, Michael jumped in startlement when he heard Robin gasp suddenly. Turning to look at her in concern, he saw her shut her eyes tightly as her face twisted in pain, a tremor running through her body. The hand that had been clutching the crystal was fisted and pressed against her chest. Michael's eyes widened in horror when he saw dark liquid trickle out from between her clenched fingers. A soft whimper of pain escaped her lips and Michael rose from his chair to catch her as she swayed.

"Karasuma, have you reached Trish's--Robin?" Amon's calm voice switched rapidly to alarm when he heard Robin's moan in the middle of his sentence. "Michael, what's going on?"

"I don't know! She just--" the words died in Michael's throat when Robin's eyes snapped open, tinted red with fire. He didn't even have time to cry out before he felt heat sear across his face. Raising his arms for protection and throwing himself out of the path of the flame, he lost his balance and hit the edge of his desk on the way down. He blacked out even before he hit the floor.

------

"My lady, they're here."

Beatrice's eyes flew open and she sneered at the man standing just outside the circle of light bathing her in a silver glow. "Yes, I know. _They_ are here, but _she_ is not."

"My lady?" the man asked, backing away slightly in fear.

"They left the fire witch behind." Shaking herself, she struggled to regain her composure. "But it doesn't really matter, I suppose. She will be here soon enough; I have activated the crystal, and she will have no choice. Until then, I will just have to stall . . ." Focusing on the man cowering before her, she commanded, "Bring Dante directly to me."

"Yes, my lady."

"And have Benoit create an electromagnetic field with his powers. That should put a damper on their communications."

"Of course, my lady."

------

"Michael?!" Amon repeated as he paused in the darkened alcove just inside the theatre, but no answer came back to him from the hacker.

Instead, he heard Doujima ask a little breathlessly, "Do you want us to go back to the office?" He thought he heard Sakaki mutter something in the background.

"No," Amon answered quickly as he pulled out his phone and activated the program he had installed that afternoon. He smiled wryly when he saw the tracker Michael planted on Robin registering on the small screen; she was leaving the office and heading in their direction. "I half-expected something like this to happen."

"You did?!" Doujima cried in disbelief.

"I hoped Michael wouldn't get hurt in the process, but we don't have time to check on him right now. We're already committed to this hunt."

"What . . . Robin . . . ?" Karasuma asked, static drowning out some of her words.

"Kara . . . did . . . say?" Doujima responded, her words just as garbled.

Frowning, Amon watched the signal on his phone blink several times before a message appeared reporting a lost connection. "Karasuma? Doujima?"

It was no use. The headset was dead too.

-----

"Amon! Karasuma!"

"You're wasting your time, Sakaki," Doujima said impatiently, smoothing her hair out. "They can't hear us."

Pausing in the process of tucking his shirt back in, Sakaki looked at her. "So, what are we going to do? Are we going in after them? You heard Amon. He said we had authorization to move in if we lost communication."

"Eerie how he saw that coming too, isn't it . . ." Hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, she pondered, "Maybe we should go back to the office instead."

"Amon said--"

Rolling her eyes, Doujima sighed, "Amon isn't here right now, is he? And what if this invitation was just an attempt to draw us all away from Robin and now she's unprotected? What if it was Beatrice's plan to try to infiltrate the STN-J all along?"

"I don't know . . ." Sakaki trailed off, looking out the window as he combed a hand through his unruly hair. A familiar sound off in the distance caught his attention. Squinting into the darkness, he murmured, "Is that . . . ?"

"What?"

The unmistakable form of Robin on her Vespa flew past their car, moving at a speed Sakaki had been unaware was even possible on such a vehicle.

"Was that Robin?" Doujima cried.

Pulling out his gun and checking to make sure it was loaded, Sakaki replied, "I guess this solves our dilemma, now doesn't it?"

-----

Alastor hummed to life against his back with a surge of electricity as Dante approached the large wooden doors; he took the weapon's reaction to be a good sign he was getting close to Beatrice. His hands itched to free the blade from its confinement and feel the solidity of it in his hands, but he refrained from making such an aggressive move without knowing the lay of the land.

"Here we are, Mr. Sparda."

Dante glanced at the gaunt, greasy-looking man who had guided him from the front door to this place, his mouth twisting with distaste. "Thanks, Jeeves," he said wryly, drawing a scowl from the man with his choice of nickname. "It's almost sickening how polite you've been, all things considered." Stepping through the open doorway into the large, dimly lit space beyond, he inquired, "So, where's the mistress of the hour?"

"I'm right here, brother," Beatrice said from somewhere deeper within the chamber, though the acoustics of the hall created the illusion that she was only standing a few feet away.

Dante heard the soft click of the doors shutting behind him and felt a twinge of disquiet. He didn't like feeling caged. Suppressing his sudden apprehension, he began walking down the carpeted aisle separating rows of scarlet upholstered seats. Beatrice waited for him where the aisle ended, standing on the edge of the stage. Darkly iridescent feathers glistened from where they were woven into her long ebony tresses, and her velvety dress shimmered in the glow of the spotlight focused on her. She looked like a second-rate fortuneteller--all she was lacking was a crystal ball.

"Welcome to the show," she intoned with a smile curving her blood red lips as she splayed her hands out to either side.

"I see the curtain's already gone up," he commented mockingly, slowing when he was close enough to clearly see the rings decorating her fingers and the delicate necklace hugging her throat, " You have quite an eclectic taste in locale for a funeral, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised considering your lack of taste in everything else."

"Oh, come now, Dante," she purred, shifting her hips and gesturing elegantly. "Don't lie. You admire my flair for the dramatic. After all, I know just how much importance you put on style yourself."

"You wouldn't know style if it kicked you on the ass." Unwilling to wait through more useless exposition, he decided to move things along more quickly by brandishing Alastor with a flourish, electricity crackling along its edge. "Which it's about to do--kick your ass, that is."

She laughed richly, her voice echoing through the space with an almost mesmerizing quality. "For someone with such supposed style, you can be rather crass."

"Are we going to dance, or are you just going to keep jabbering all night?" Dante demanded.

Suddenly, she was no longer standing on the stage. Dante blinked in surprise. He hadn't even seen her move. Then he heard her voice speaking from directly behind him, her fingers skimming over his shoulder blades before coming to rest on his shoulders. "I would love to dance," she said against his neck. She must have been wearing spiked heels to achieve such height. "But I'm afraid you might step on my toes."

Dante snatched one of her wrists and spun around to face her, pressing the edge of his sword against her pale neck and drawing a thin line of blood. "I'm a little disappointed. I thought this would be more of a challenge."

She backed up a step, licking the tiny beads of blood off the flat of the blade. "If it's a challenge you want . . ." She continued backing away, her eyes glowing red as her exotic features took on a darker cast. Obsidian wings sprouted from her back, lifting her out of reach when he swung Alastor toward her, the sparks from his sword meeting a shield of fire. "Don't disappoint _me_ now, Dante," she snarled, a whip tipped with tongues of fire appearing in her hand.

Dante heard the whip snap against the stage where he had been standing only moments before, his instincts causing him to evade before his conscious mind even saw the attack coming. Coming up out of a side roll, he watched Beatrice dive toward him and leapt into the air, jumping again in midair to gain extra height before coming down fast, aiming his sword at her. Alastor embedded a few inches into the cement beneath the worn carpeting when he landed, but Beatrice was nowhere to be seen. The bite of her whip in his back a moment later told him exactly where she had gone. Growling, he pulled his sword out of the ground before back flipping up onto the stage and slashing through the air at Beatrice. Her whip caught his blade inches away from her torso, and fire fought with electricity for a few moments before a burst of flame exploded in his face and he lost his grip on his sword. What the hell was going on?

Stumbling backward, he reached for his guns. Aiming Ebony at Beatrice's hovering form, he took two quick shots at her and smirked when she reacted just as he had expected. He pulled down on Ivory's trigger then and watched the chain connecting a chandelier to the ceiling shatter when the bullet made contact. Beatrice didn't have time to move before the chandelier hit her, and he took advantage of the opportunity, spraying her with bullets as he leapt toward her. Snatching up Alastor from where it had impaled itself in a seat, he sliced the blade toward Beatrice. Before he was done, the chandelier was in two distinct pieces--but, once again, Beatrice was gone.

"Over here," she mocked, and he spun around to see her standing on the stage again, a smirk stretched across her once again pale and very human-like features.

Frustration making him reckless, he demanded, "How did you--"

"Have you forgotten already, brother?" she whispered in his ear even though he could still see her standing on the stage. "My powers of manipulation?"

He pulled away in disgust when she licked his ear. He turned to see her hovering behind him in devil form, her human form on the stage still in his peripheral vision.

"What a dilemma," both Beatrices laughed. "Which one of us is real?"

He swung Alastor through the air angrily and the Beatrice next to him evaporated. "This was getting old five minutes ago," Dante snarled when he saw the demonic Beatrice reappear across the theater. "Now, it's prehistoric." Taking out his guns again, he aimed one at each Beatrice and started firing, jumping up on the nearest row of seats and jogging across the armrests as he dodged a torrent of flame. When he was on solid ground again, he found both Beatrices had disappeared. Catching his breath, he growled, "You're going to run out of energy for your fun and games eventually, bitch, and when you do, you're going to get the shock of your life." Alastor hissed in support of his threat and he felt a current of electricity hum through his body.

"I'm afraid the fun and games are already over, dearest brother. I have other things to attend to," Beatrice replied smoothly, stepping into a pool of light near the back curtain of the stage. "You will just have to keep yourself occupied here."

The sound of several doors opening simultaneously caught Dante by surprise and his eyes narrowed when he saw dozens of glowing red eyes appear in the darkness of the theater accompanied by low growls and barks. Watching the twisted shapes of dark creatures crawling over the seats and up the walls and moving steadily toward him, he demanded through gritted teeth, "Exactly what could be so important to tear you away from your duties as a hostess?"

He jumped in surprise when he felt a hand on his arm, firmly pushing him to the side of the aisle. His hands went limp and his guns nearly clattered to the floor when he saw Robin standing behind him, green eyes focused on Beatrice with a blank stare. "What the hell are you doing here, babe?" Robin didn't even look in his direction before brushing past him on her way to the stage. He lunged for her arm, attempting to either pull her to a stop or at least shake her out of her trance. She flung him away with more strength than he had expected from her small frame, slamming him against the nearest row of seats.

"Robin, stop!" a voice shouted from the door, and Dante gathered his wits enough to see Amon standing silhouetted in the doorway, several bodies scattered on the floor behind him. His gun was pointed at Robin.

---------

**I am so evil, aren't I? Here I am . . . leaving you on a cliffhanger. Bad me! Bad!  
Yet somehow I enjoy it. I really am evil. I hope the chapter wasn't too confusing. It's actually kind of difficult to write action when a bunch of characters are able to speak to each other while they're all in different places doing different things. I kept confusing _myself_****. Oh, and I apologize if I had any glaring errors with WHR or DMC facts on hunts, witches, weaponry, equipment, etc. I tried to be as accurate as I could without actually going back and researching.**

**To Megu-sama: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**To Jewel of Tasuki: Yeah! I'm glad to hear you like the relationship between Dante and Trish. It's one of my favorite kinds of relationships to write (second to the angsty star-crossed lover kind). Part of the reason I like it too is because it always pisses me off when stories are all about getting the people together and once they're together their relationship is boring--so, I like the idea of the relationship being just as much fun as the tension leading up to characters getting together. Doesn't work for all characters. But Dante and Trish play the part well. **

**To Je: I can see how you could have gotten confused. I've had plenty of mental lapses like that myself when reading fics. Besides, this is a WHR fic . . . isn't it? I can't remember anymore :)**

**To Hexes: C'mon Capcom! Show me the money! I'm glad I'm spreading the DMC joy around though. Leather. Oh yeah. **

**To Kenshinusa01: Thanks! Sorry for the wait.**

**To Yukari Youkai: You are forgiven. It happens. I've been bad about reviewing lately for other stories. Not enough time to even read much. Sigh!**

**To Tiger of the Wind1: I'm so glad everybody's loving Dante and Trish. They're a lot of fun to write. And their attitudes contrast well with the serious WHR crew--though I've made many of them a bit less serious . . . Nothing "too" bad will happen to Robin--I promise. I made you wait a bit longer for this chapter--sorry! Damn writer's block. (And designer's block simultaneously--which is bad for work)**

**To GoWaitInTheCar: I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to im you, but I will! I wanna know!**

**To Sesshoumarusgirl123: Thanks! I'll work on that updating soon part.**

**To Kyra Invictus Black: You know, I still haven't gotten a chance to look that up, but I could have SWORN Kosaka called her that in one of the episodes. I tried to avoid the confusion of using many Japanese words, suffixes, etc in my fic, but the "Doujima-kun" thing was so clear in my head it just came out in my writing. I probably just made it all up, but now I'm curious. Need to remember to look it up on the dvd's sometime. But thanks for pointing out the mistake so I can correct it. Yeah, Zaizen is an ass--I've definitely been watching too much Nikita because Operations has totally influenced me. He's such a bastard. Unfortunately, I am already inspired for another really messed up Zaizen bastardliness in a future chapter. That's why I've got to finish Inferno and keep movin' on . . .**

**To Sakura Rain: Soon, my child. Soon. AxR will be happy times in future chapters. But not in a cheesy way--I hope.**

**To Chibi Tenshi: Yeah, "binding" is a scary word, isn't it? And Dante is such a softie when it comes to Robin. But I like giving him the softer side because you just know he's got one behind the tough guy exterior. "Clue by four" That's a good one! And it is fun to see Amon being all insecure with Robin's little kiss too. It's so much fun to turn the tables on him. More of that on the way.**

**To Kim "Shadow Fox" Klein: More suspense . . . sorry. But I bet you really want to beat Amon up right now.**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Okay, okay, I get the hint! Menage a trois! :) But I actually did have an inspiration for a bit of triangle tension, though it may not be what you have in mind. Have you ever read any of the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter books? Well, there's this little thing called the triumvirate that has me kind of inspired. But Amon's going to be acting a bit ooc for other reasons soon enough. No worries. I foresee him actually getting a bit clingy--that's not the right word. Maybe possessive is a better one. Not quite. Oh well. He'll be ooc for reasons I will not yet divulge.   
"how can a headache form at the bridge of someone's nose?" Well, actually, I have sinus and tension headaches quite often and I get them right behind my eyes and in my sinuses, so often I feel headaches right around there. I was worried that description would be a bit confusing though. I can't help my punniness. And somehow Dante just seems like the punny kind of guy. I'm thinking Bruce Willis in Moonlighting I guess--though I may be showing my age with that one. I barely remember the show from when it was actually on, but I watched all the reruns on Bravo. **

**To Busoshwe: Ha ha ha! Methos is mine! Jk. Actually, I have an original character named Cymon (pronounced Simon) who satisfies many of my Methos cravings, so I suppose I can let you have the oldest living immortal. I like the idea of Harry as Joe. Makes me want to through in one of my favorite "quotes butchered by USA's attempt to cut out cuss words." Joe: Where's MacLeod? Richie: Oh, he went to whack the son-of-a- who killed her husband. Joe: Richie, you're the son-of-a- who killed her husband.**


	21. Inferno: Part Two

**Author's Note:**

**I really am evil. It's been a little while since I updated . . . and after a cliffhanger too. crawls under rug and scurries around in circles like the lady who runs the hot springs in Fruit's Basket GOMEN NASAI!!!!**

**Oh well, if you're reading this now then you must have forgiven me enough to bother reading more. :) Now for the excuses. Can't exactly blame my muses since I have been somewhat inspired lately. Unfortunately, I've been unable to get any inspiration out of my head and into a tangible form. It doesn't help that much of my inspiration has been directed in a different direction either . . . But enough apologizing! On with the story!**

**A little warning though: this chapter has a bit of that fantasy violence I mentioned in the beginning of this story. Reader discretion is advised. Please, if someone has a problem with the rating of my fic, let me know and I will change it rather than deal with the hassle of having to make a new account and repost everything after its been deleted. I just felt the need to mention this with all the crazy sudden deletions going on lately on the website. Don't Strong Bad my story!**

Chapter 21

Inferno: Part Two

Her body was no longer under her control.

Swaying, she lost her balance but felt gentle arms catch her, holding her safe. Breath came desperately into her lungs, but she couldn't seem to get enough to satisfy her body's need for air. Before she knew what was happening, she felt herself reaching for her craft against her will and summoning fire to use against the kind embrace keeping her on her feet. _No! Michael!_ The words went no farther than her mind.

She heard him scream, but the sound had become slurred in her ears and her vision had blurred, ghostly images dancing in front of her as she turned away and walked toward the elevator, unable to stop her feet from moving. The crystal burned in her hand, and she felt it tugging her onward as if it connected her directly to whoever had control over her with an invisible string.

--------

"Would you shut up already, Sakaki?" Doujima hissed, attempting to stop the stupid otaku's incessant humming under his breath. "We're trying _not_ to be heard, remember?"

"I can't help it," Sakaki whispered back. "Sneaking around this place reminds me of infiltrating Shinra Tower in Final Fantasy VII, and the music just popped into my head. Then 'Underneath the Rotting Pizza' came to mind and I couldn't help but start humming it too."

"What was that about a rotting pizza?" Doujima asked uncertainly as she looked back at him after hopping around a corner of the building dramatically and leveling her orbo gun at the empty air in front of her.

"That's the name of the track that plays when you're wandering around Wall Market," Sakaki answered with a disgusted shake of his head--apparently at her lack of video game knowledge. "You should just be happy the song from the Gold Saucer or the Bumblebee Manor didn't get stuck in my head. Give me a kazoo and I could reproduce just about every song from Final Fantasy VII. But my rendition of Aeris' theme could make even the coldest man feel sorrow."

Sighing, Doujima peeked around another corner at the side entrance of the theater and muttered under her breath, "You are such a freak, Sakaki. You might as well be talking a different language."

"_I'm_ a freak?" Sakaki snapped back, following her down the alley and sweeping his gaze and his gunpoint across the length of the shadowy passage. "You're the one wearing sunglasses at night."

"For the last time, they're only a fashion accessory," Doujima growled. "I can see perfectly well with them on, even in the dark."

"Yeah, and that's not weird in the least," he scoffed. "Really, wearing pink sunglasses on a hunt . . ."

"Are you as colorblind as you are stupid? They're not pink--I left the pink pair at home. These are red to match my shirt." She gestured to her incredibly cute strawberry shortcake t-shirt.

"Isn't red usually a little darker? You know, with a little less white in it?"

"Fine! So they're . . . lightish red, but they're still red!"

Sakaki nearly choked on a laugh. "'Hate to break it to you, but there's already a color for lightish red. It's called pink!'" he chortled in a tone of voice that implied he was quoting from something, though Doujima didn't recognize the reference.

She spun around to glower at him. "You are _so_ annoying!"

Sakaki replied with a smug smile. "You didn't find me so annoying a little while ago when we were back in the car."

"I was bored," Doujima retorted, feeling her cheeks coloring with the memory in spite of herself. "And your mouth was occupied with a less annoying activity." Spinning back to face the theater's side entrance, Doujima reached for the handle only to jump back in surprise as the door flew open suddenly, revealing an angry and disheveled Karasuma. Doujima noted in concern that the older hunter's clothes were rent in a few places and dark liquid edged the tattered fabric.

Glaring at both of them with equal measure, Karasuma demanded, "What are you two doing out here? How long have you been standing out here prattling like grade schoolers while Trish and I have been fighting for our lives?"

"Are you okay, Miho?" Doujima asked in worry, looking more closely at the slashed fabric of the woman's right sleeve.

"I'll be fine." Karasuma leaned back against the wall behind her for support as Sakaki slipped into the hallway beyond her. Doujima followed him reluctantly, recoiling when she saw the dark liquid and strange amorphous shapes clinging to the walls and ceiling of the dark hallway. "What happened?" she breathed.

"Creatures--demonic . . . things," Karasuma managed to explain haltingly. "They came swarming through that door." She pointed at the ragged opening at the end of the hall which no longer resembled a doorway. "The orbo hardly made them pause. If Trish hadn't been here, I don't think I still would be."

"Well, it's not like I had much choice on where I was," Trish commented sourly, looking at her with a wry smile. "My feet are still glued to the floor." Her clothing wasn't torn, and she had sustained no injuries Doujima could see, yet she looked more exhausted than Karasuma as she swayed slightly on her feet. Doujima watched with a strange twinge of jealousy as Sakaki caught the wavering blonde and helped her regain her balance.

Distracting herself from the unexplainable emotion the scene invoked, Doujima observed that the carnage on the walls went no farther than the spot where Trish stood, implying the demon hunter had held off the attackers herself, though Doujima didn't have a clue as to how she could have accomplished such a super human feat. "How did you fight off all those . . . things?" Doujima asked as she approached them carefully, stepping over the slick spots on the floor nimbly in her stylish high heels.

"Yes," Karasuma echoed. "That lightning you used--why didn't you tell us you were a craft user?"

"This conversation sounds familiar," Trish muttered. "I didn't tell you because I'm _not_ a craft user," she explained reluctantly, leaning against Sakaki on one side and gesturing with her free arm. "I'm like Dante."

"A demon," Karasuma concluded quietly. "I see . . ."

"Well, shouldn't we be looking for the others?" Doujima asked impatiently, not really caring what Trish was so long as she stopped hanging on Sakaki. She and Trish already had a lot in common, but there were some things Doujima did not want to share, even if she would have never admitted her feelings out loud.

"Amon told us to retreat," Sakaki reminded her with irritating efficiency.

"We have to find Robin," Doujima snapped back.

"Robin's here?" Karasuma cried in surprise.

"Yeah," Sakaki answered with a shrug. "She showed up looking like a zombie--for a second I thought we were in Raccoon City. Amon went after her, but he sent us to find you two and bring you out," Sakaki answered. "He didn't seem too hopeful about being able to save Robin."

"Dante's still in here somewhere," Trish reminded. "We need to find him too--before he lives down to my expectations and does something stupid."

"First, we need to find a way to get you out of this hallway," Karasuma observed with a frown, looking up at the faintly glowing ring of runes on the ceiling above Trish.

Sakaki looked up in panic and Doujima nearly laughed out loud at the look on his face. "I'm stuck now too," he yelped when he tried to move his feet and failed.

Remembering something Robin had said when they were examining the Ogham wheel at that witch's apartment the day before, Doujima looked up at the circle and considered her options. Robin said the lines in the wood floor had disrupted the wheel's power. In that case, couldn't she interrupt the circle in a similar way and break its hold on them? Without a second thought, Doujima pointed her gun at the ceiling and fired several shots, painting the surface with splatters of iridescent green.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sakaki cried, unprepared for her action.

"Saving your stupid ass, though it's hardly worth the effort." Shaking her head, Doujima headed down the hall past him, avoiding looking too closely at the unidentifiable lumps and shapes on the surfaces around her. "Come on. Let's get this over with so we can get out of here."

-----

"Robin, stop!" Amon stood just inside the doorway of the theater, his gun aimed squarely at the craft user's slim back--though he had to admit his aim was wavering ever so slightly. _Robin, _he pleaded with her in his mind, _fight it. Don't make me do this._ Oblivious to his silent pleas, she continued walking unhurriedly toward the stage, and Amon felt his stomach clench as he pulled back on the trigger ever so slowly. His vision blurred as the bullet ripped through the air toward her.

He was too numb to even react when he felt a sharp pain cut into his left shoulder followed by a heavy weight causing him to stumble. He nearly dropped his gun as he leaned against a nearby seat to regain his balance, ignoring the creature's howl of challenge. The heavy odor of something rotten filled his nostrils as he struggled to throw the weight off his side, but the smell was quickly replaced by the equally repulsive scent of burning flesh. Cringing as the panicked beast dug its claws deeper into his shoulder, he managed to shove the writhing beast off of him with a roar of frustration. It seemed that in its attack, the strange, dog-like creature had unwittingly saved Amon from a different assault--one originating from Robin. His gaze snapped up to where Robin stood now, facing him with her eyes burnished by flame. He caught a glimpse of bright green splashed across a seat not far from her and realized she must have deflected the orbo. This was going to be even more difficult than he had thought.

Robin pushed her glasses up on her nose before turning toward the stage again, her movements seeming sluggish to him, as if time itself had slowed. But then again, perhaps he was the only one moving in slow motion as he mutely watched her walk away, helpless to even move for several long moments. Distantly, he heard an unearthly shriek shatter the shell of silence his mind had created around him. The macabre sound was followed by a hollow cackle, and he looked up to see an ephemeral shape swooping down through the air at him, brandishing razor sharp scissors large enough to cut him in two. He had no time to react, merely watching as a sword sliced through the insubstantial shape suddenly, sparks dancing along the metal as it arced past. Another spectral scream quivered through the charged air, and Amon had to roll to one side quickly to evade the blade of the scissors as they spun toward him, glinting dully in the dim light.

Then Dante was beside him, dragging him to his feet with a tight grip on his uninjured arm. Dante deflected another attack from a twisted, demonic creature before growling in Amon's face with a rather demonic expression of his own, "What the hell was that? Why did you try to shoot her?"

Amon met the half-demon's angry blue gaze evenly, pulling his sleeve out of the man's grasp with a scowl. "Perhaps you've failed to notice, but Robin isn't in control of her actions at the moment--which means she isn't in control of her powers. She would want to be stopped."

"Stopped maybe, but not killed!"

"I'm using orbo bullets," Amon retorted, feeling his lips twist in an expression close to a sneer. Did Dante truly think he could kill Robin without a second thought? "They won't kill her, but they will suppress her powers."

"I see," Dante grunted gruffly, tossing another attacking fiend off his back in annoyance and showering the creature with bullets before it hit the ground. Amon backed away a step when he noticed the faint aura of red glowing around Dante, uncertain of its source but fairly certain he would not like its outcome. Turning back to face him, Dante stated, "Well you're not much good to _me_ without real bullets, but I'd wager she needs your help more than I do right now anyway." Shoving Amon in the direction of the stage, he added, "Don't let her down."

Amon dismissed the demon hunter silently, continuing toward his destination without looking back--not even when he heard what sounded like wings beating at the air and the buzz of electrical current followed by more wraithlike screams. His gaze was focused on the honey-haired girl knelt in a pool of light at the center of the stage. He was determined to protect her at all costs--even if it meant hurting her in the process--even if it meant trading his own life for hers.

A dark feminine figure stepped out of the shadows beyond Robin as Amon climbed onto the stage, his injured side protesting the strain of the movement. He did not immediately recognize Beatrice--her features had become more animalistic, less surreally beautiful--but her voice was all too familiar as she began chanting words urgently in a language he could not understand. Amon saw a glint of claws at her fingertips as she cupped Robin's face in her hands, dark hair spilling over her shoulders and shrouding them both as she leaned closer.

Quickening his pace, Amon slipped behind the edge of a border, using the dark curtain for cover as he panted to catch his breath; his injuries were affecting him more than he had expected. Crouching down and bracing his elbows against his knee to keep his hands from shaking, he aimed carefully at Beatrice. The first bullet deflected off Beatrice's shield uselessly and the second only managed to draw a thin line of blood against her pale cheek with its close trajectory. However, the third actually landed in the half-demon's calf, causing her to look up at him with a feral growl. A wave of heat rushed by him, and he rolled out of its path not a moment too soon. Pain burned in his left side as he came back to his feet, but it was a less dangerous burn than the flame, which had just consumed the curtain he had been using as shelter.

When he finally looked up again, he saw that Beatrice had sliced deep enough into Robin's forearm with her claws to draw blood, her chanting gaining intensity. Robin showed no reaction to the half-demon's actions, not even when Beatrice raised the bloodied skin to her lips and began lapping at the red liquid like a cat at a bowl of milk. Overwhelmed with disgust by merely watching the nauseating scene, Amon struggled to focus as he raised his gun again, aiming this time at Robin since the orbo clearly had little effect on Beatrice. He could only hope that the orbo would break Beatrice's control and not merely leave Robin more vulnerable. Not allowing himself to hesitate, he pulled the trigger quickly, but flinched when Robin went limp momentarily in Beatrice's arms, a dark patch on the back of her shirt.

To his dismay, Beatrice looked up at him slowly, her lips curving upward in a malevolent smile. She raised a small flask to her lips after dousing Robin's wounds with the murky liquid, throwing her head back as she drained the container. Amon watched her in dread, finger itching at the trigger. Settling her pale gaze on him again, Beatrice announced, "You're too late, hunter. The ritual of binding is complete."

"No," Amon breathed, watching as Beatrice stepped away from Robin and the girl crumpled to the ground without the support to keep her upright. His breath caught in his throat as Robin managed to turn her head to look at him, her gaze lucid again. He watched in horror as she mouthed his name, tears glittering on her cheeks. "You're lying," he said to Beatrice with more confidence than he felt. Robin would not be looking at him now with such desperate questions in her eyes if she were still under Beatrice's control; she would not be silently asking why he had shot her because she would be unable to even consider such independent thoughts under Beatrice's influence.

"So you don't believe me," Beatrice observed. "I shall just have to prove the truth to you then."

A flash of brilliant light and a sharp cry of pain from Robin were the only warnings he had before flame burnt through a few thick ropes against the wall behind him, upsetting the system of pulleys controlling the various curtains, scenery and pipes of electrics hanging at a threatening height above them. He had barely a moment to consider his danger before he heard a snap and a rushing noise as something far above came plummeting down to the stage. Leaping out of the way just in time, he landed hard against the floor and slid to a stop, the stage vibrating with the volume of the crash behind him. Lights and equipment shattered as they hit the ground, pelting him with shrapnel and debris.

Blinking up through the settling dust, he saw Beatrice lower a wall of flame she had raised in protection between herself and the wreckage. "Her power is within such easy reach," she murmured. He dropped his gaze to see Robin trembling at her feet, her breath coming in shaky gasps. "You see," Beatrice continued, looking wonderingly at her hand as she danced a tongue of fire from fingertip to fingertip, "it no longer matters where she is, whether she fights me or not . . . I have complete access to her power--and she can do nothing to stop me from taking it."

Amon's eyes widened when wings sprouted from Beatrice's back suddenly, swooping down through the air to lift her gracefully off the ground. He struggled to move, to find some way to stop her, but he felt too weak at the moment to even lift his gun. "Keep her safe for a little while longer, will you?" Beatrice laughed, looking at Amon as a ball of fire erupted in the wall behind her, accompanied by another scream from Robin. "I'll have use for her power tomorrow."

Before she had disappeared completely, another winged figure landed on the stage not far from Amon, panting slightly, its hands braced against its knees. "Come back here you sadistic freak!" the dark figure bellowed, and Amon realized with a start that the strange creature was in fact Dante. "We're not through yet!" Dante added, but his threat was minimal since he was obviously weary from all the fighting he had already done. The wings on his back became more ephemeral with every breath he gasped into his lungs, and his skin was slowly returning to its usual shade of tan, his hair once again paling to white.

"You spend too little time in your demon form, Dante," Beatrice taunted, hovering at the edge of the opening she had created in the wall. "It rejects you so quickly."

"And you spend too _much_ time as a demon! You forget you're still partly human--with all the wonderful weaknesses that come with humanity."

"I'll admit I _am_ feeling rather fatigued at the moment. But at least I got what I wanted. Do you even know what _you_ want anymore, dear brother?"

Then she was gone, and Amon had found enough strength to struggle to his feet and stumble across the debris-strewn stage to Robin's crumpled form. Dropping to his knees next to her--partially because he didn't have the energy to do otherwise--he gently brushed the hair out of her face and frowned at the sickly pallor of her skin. He heard Dante approach slowly, boots crunching over the rubble. "She okay?" the demon hunter asked quietly.

"I don't know," Amon replied after checking her pulse. "She's unconscious, but she is alive." Unable to think beyond his need to protect her despite his miserable failure in that task already, he gathered his partner into his arms tenderly, ignoring the stabbing pain in his left side and noting instead how fragile Robin felt in his arms. He managed to get to his feet, only to find himself crumbling a moment later, Robin still clutched against his chest.

"Shit, could you at least try to remember you're not a superhero for one damn second?" Dante grumbled, supporting both of them for a moment before tugging Robin's limp form out of Amon's arms. "Because, unless you're wearing a leotard with a huge 's' on the chest underneath those clothes, you're in no shape to carry her out of here." A lesser man--or perhaps a "mere man" was a more accurate term--would have wavered under the glare Amon turned on Dante then, but Dante simply shook his head. Shifting Robin so he could hold her with just one arm, Dante pulled something out of his jacket and pressed it into Amon's hand.

Looking down, Amon saw a green globe glowing in his palm for a few moments before it melted into his skin with a tingling sensation. Almost instantly, he felt energy seeping back into his body, reviving him enough for him to remain standing without support. "What was that?" Amon inquired curiously, too tired to even react to Dante's presumption.

"Green orb," Dante answered brusquely, walking back across the rubble toward the exit. "Works wonders, doesn't it? It's a good thing I didn't have to go so far as to use a yellow one--I'm not sure if it would work on someone who doesn't have demon blood anyway."

"What a mess," a familiar voice exclaimed from the main entrance of the theater. "Hey, Doujima, we must be getting close--this looks like Dante's handiwork."

"I see you finally got yourself out of Beatrice's little trap, Trish," Dante called to the tall blonde picking her way across the carcass-littered space. "And you even managed to do it without having to cut your feet off at the ankles." Cradling Robin closer to his body, he hopped down off the stage gingerly.

"You can thank me for that!" Doujima proclaimed proudly, peeking in through the doorway. "Though I suppose I should give credit to Robin since she was the one to give me the idea." Doujima's expression grew worried as she noticed the unconscious girl in Dante's arms. "Is she all right?"

Amon followed Dante off the stage with a bit less grace--a fact which annoyed Amon more than a little--and replied quickly, "Too soon to tell. Do you know where the others are?"

Doujima's eyes narrowed as she shifted her gaze to him. "Sakaki took Karasuma back to the car."

"Is she injured?" Amon asked evenly.

"We had to fight off a swarm of demons . . . Her injures aren't serious, but she's lost a lot of blood," Trish answered. Her eyes widened slightly when she looked at Amon; they had now met each other in the middle of the theater, and she was close enough to see the blood darkening Amon's coat; Dante's crimson jacket was likewise soaked in blood, but little of it was his own. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Amon stated tersely, brushing past her as he continued on toward the door. Though he couldn't see Dante's expression, he could surmise with little doubt that the half-demon was rolling his eyes in response.

Doujima eyed him uncertainly as he swept by her as well on his way out the door, reloading his orbo gun. "Oh, you won't need that," she commented. "The place is deserted now. We didn't see a single living thing the whole way from the side entrance to here."

Despite her assertion, Amon did not put his gun away when he was finished loading it, and he caught Doujima making a similar expression to the one he'd imagined Dante making. Nevertheless, the building did indeed seem to be as empty as she described since they met absolutely no resistance on their way out of the building. Amon didn't put his gun away until they were outside though, just to be safe.

The others walked several paces behind him, either because they respected the fact that he needed his space at the moment or because he was the subject of their quiet conversation. Concentrating on formulating a plan of action to enact when they reached the vehicles, he managed to ignore their mutters and soft exclamations with a fair amount of success until he heard Doujima gasp suddenly, "Is that orbo?" Then, shortly after, he felt her accusatory glare on his back. "Amon, you didn't shoot Robin . . . did you?"

Feeling the sting of her words, he struggled to keep his voice emotionless. "I did. But that's the least of our problems right now. She will recover from the orbo."

"But exactly what are the side effects of orbo?" Doujima persisted. "Do any of us really know? All the witches we've used it against are whisked away to the Factory before we get a chance to find out."

"Wait a minute," Dante said with anger edging his voice. "You said it was safe. You said it would only suppress her powers."

Amon took a slow breath, but continued walking, refusing to turn around to face their reproachful expressions. "I never said it was entirely 'safe,'" he replied carefully. "I said it wouldn't kill her."

"You cold hearted son-of-a-bitch," Dante growled. "You were willing to take the risk--"

Fury boiling beneath the surface of his calm facade, Amon came to a stop suddenly and spun around. "To save her life. Yes." Nearly shaking with his repressed anger, Amon regarded each of them in return, knowing, and no longer even caring, that they could see the hurt in his eyes. Doujima's gaze dropped quickly, her expression pensive. Trish frowned and looked down at Robin sadly. But Dante returned his glare, his expression warring between outrage and regret.

Before anyone could say another word, the focus of their argument stirred slightly in Dante's arms. Curling closer to Dante's chest, Robin buried her face against his shoulder and reached up a hand to cling to his vest, murmuring a word which made heat rise to Amon's cheeks. "Amon . . ."

Swallowing, Amon only watched the half-conscious girl a moment longer, ignoring the gazes which had just shifted to him and turning around again. He heard another muffled noise from Robin as he walked away and then heard Dante say softly, "Hey, babe. How are you feeling?"

"A little disoriented," Robin murmured. Amon heard a shuffling of fabric. "It's okay, you can put me down."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Robin, maybe you shouldn't try walking right now," Doujima agreed.

"I'll be okay," Robin replied quietly, and Amon felt the weight of her eyes on his back suddenly. "Amon . . . ?"

They were in sight of the cars now and Amon refused to slow his pace. They didn't have time for pleasantries at the moment. "Doujima, I need you to take Robin and Karasuma to the hospital," he ordered, ignoring his partner's plaintive query. "I'm going back to the office to check on Michael."

"Michael," Robin whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. He heard her boots click on the pavement as she quickened her pace to catch up with him. "I'm going with you." She tugged lightly on his sleeve to pull him to a stop, stumbling slightly when he actually did stop and nearly caused her to run into him.

Catching her out of reflex more than conscious thought, he looked down into her emerald eyes, wide as saucers and filled with entreaty. "No. You're not." Her expression of anguish deepened to despair and he felt his resolve wavering at the defeated look in the depths of her eyes.

"But, I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm afraid I hurt Michael, and I--"

"No," he repeated as firmly as he could manage. When he felt assured she could remain standing on her own, he released her arms and turned away quickly, unable to bear her pained expression any longer.

Sakaki had just closed the passenger door after helping Karasuma into the front seat of Doujima's car when he noticed them approaching. Looking up at them with panic in his eyes, he cried, "We need to get her to the hospital like ten minutes ago." He was rubbing his hands against each other anxiously in an attempt to wipe away all the blood still clinging to his skin.

Panic spurring her, Doujima jogged up to the car and snatched the keys out of Sakaki's hand when he offered them before slipping into the driver's seat without a pause. Amon approached his own car hardly less quickly, only stopping momentarily when he felt Dante's hand on his right shoulder. Lips pressed into a firm line and expression tight, Amon looked up at the demon hunter impatiently. "Michael could be dying on the floor of the STN-J right now. I don't have time for more arguments."

Without mincing words, Dante stated bluntly, "Someone else can check on him. You need to go to the hospital too."

"I will see a doctor later. That 'orb' you gave me cut the pain in half. I'll be fine." Opening the door, he slid down into the driver's seat before meeting Dante's eyes again and adding quietly, "I'm trusting you to take care of her."

Dante only nodded silently, his expression a strange conglomeration of emotions. Slamming the door and turning the ignition, Amon didn't even look back before peeling out onto the street, fearful that seeing Robin's forlorn expression one more time would be too much for him.

--------

"Will he be okay?" Trish inquired quietly, standing at Dante's elbow.

Dante shook himself slightly. "Who? Rambo? I gave him my last green orb. Don't worry, he'll live to annoy another day."

"You're terrible," Trish muttered, shaking her head.

"Guys, we really need to get going!" Doujima cried with a hint of desperation.

Trish turned to the car, following Dante, but almost ran into him when he stopped suddenly, his gaze darting around urgently. "Where's Robin?" Panic caught in Trish's chest and she turned slowly, sweeping her eyes around the area.

"Shit," Sakaki cursed from the other side of the car. "Look," he continued, pointing back at the theater. "Her Vespa's gone. I didn't even see her sneak off."

"I don't think we have time to look for her," Doujima said, worry filling her voice as she looked over at Karasuma. "Miho's completely unconscious now."

"And we only have one vehicle. Dammit!" Dante cursed as he squeezed into the back seat of the car beside Trish, sliding Alastor down against the floorboard. Sakaki slipped into the seat on the other side, and Trish realized Doujima's car was quite a bit smaller than Amon's. Settling herself in what little seat remained for her, she leaned closer to Dante, sensing his anxiety, and wondering--not for the first time since arriving in Japan--how Dante had grown attached to Robin so quickly. She watched him look back over his shoulder at the theater when Doujima pulled the car out into the street and felt the tension in his muscles as they drove away. Reaching for his hand, Trish pulled it into her lap and folded both of her own around it, gently stroking his skin in soothing circles. Slowly, she felt him relax against her.

Looking back at them in the rear view mirror, Doujima said reassuringly, "As soon as we get Miho to the hospital, I'll take you back to Harry's to get your vehicles and we'll all split up to look for Robin."

"Amon's going to kill us," Sakaki muttered under his breath.

"Somehow I think he might find Robin first," Dante replied quietly. Trish looked up at Dante's profile as he looked blankly out the window, silver hair obscuring half his face. He must have sensed her eyes on him because he glanced down at her and smiled ever so faintly, squeezing her hand.

"You think she went back to the office?" Sakaki asked.

"That would be my first guess, yes," Dante answered. "She wanted to go there, and if Rambo hadn't been such an asshole he would have let her come with him in the first place and she wouldn't have taken off on her own." Shaking his head with a sharp sigh of frustration, he added, "You'd think the moron would catch the clue train eventually."

"I don't think the clue train has ever stopped in Amon's part of town," Doujima said with a nervous laugh. "He's kind of stuck on stupid sometimes."

"So I've noticed."

--------

**Remember how I told you I was evil at the top of the page? Yeah . . . Another cliffhanger! Lucky for all of you though, I have pieces of the next chapter already written--plus, I have a much better idea of exactly what's going to happen in it. So, it shouldn't be nearly as long of a wait.   
Don't know if any of you caught the Red vs. Blue reference earlier, but thought I would mention it in case anyone wondered what Sakaki was quoting when he was talking about Doujima's "lightish red" sunglasses. It's much funnier in RvB, but I just had to pay it homage.**

**To Seashah: Thank you, thank you! I'm glad you enjoy my style, though I have to admit I've ripped most of it off from Nikita and other various shows I've watched. Yeah, I think it's amusing that the readers actually often know more than the characters about the references. And as for the dreams--I've had some majorly random ones myself, so I suppose I had some material to work from.**

**To AVAAntares: I'm so glad you enjoyed my story! It's always rewarding to have a favorite author enjoy your own work. It seems like we've got a lot in common too! Good luck with your search for a Graphic Design job--believe me, I know how difficult it is to find one. I had to work at a doctor's office for a year before I finally got lucky. I've never really had a chance to cosplay, but I did dress up as Chiana from Farscape for Halloween last year and the makeup alone took for freakin' ever. But it looked cool enough to really freak some of my friends out.  
Amon and the carwash! Ah, the Utena movie is such good fodder for crazy imagery. And X. Yeah, I decided to avoid the disembodied heads, but I was actually considering at one point working Tokyo Tower in there. And sakura blossoms. (Ah, Seishiro and tree-san). Maybe Amon should have started screaming, "ROBIN!" As far as I know, Trish is indeed a demon, but hey, I don't claim to be a complete expert. As far as the relation between Beatrice and Trish, though, I'm going to leave that open for now.**

**To Kyra Invictus Black: Sorry I didn't update as soon as I planned. And sorry I put in another cliffhanger, but I'll try to keep this wait shorter. Actually, I checked with a few of my friend who graduated with a degree in Japanese and she said "Doujima-kun" is correct and Kosaka does call her that in the Japanese on the DVD's. I _rarely_**** watch anything dubbed because the voice acting is so horrible and the translations often get messed up (in fact I did watch part of WHR in the dub because I was watching with people who don't like subtitles after I'd already watched the subtitled version and I was amazed by how the meaning of a scene was completely different. I eventually forced them to watch it with subtitles.) LOL about Zaizen in a watercooler bottle! What an image! But no worries, more AxR on the way!**

**To lizalou42: Oh my, do I really have to respond to all of these reviews, my dear and good friend? Dude, it's hard not to add "Mr. Garibaldi" onto the end of that sentence. You know I was saying it with Londo's accent. Anyway . . . I'll do these in chronological order. You know you liked Michael getting beaten up--bandages remember? So Zaizen's on the list with Pioneer? Well, I suppose I should say the one Pioneer used to be on . . . Character insight and thoughts: two of my fav things.   
"Another transitory chapter"--are you really surprised? I enjoy the juxtaposition of humor against the seriousness of the abuse. I think most everyone was clueless to the severity of the situation. Robin and Karasuma were the only ones who noticed the bruises and no one else really realizes what f$#in' bastard Zaizen is. I originally wrote this chapter from a diff pt of view, but changing it to Karasuma's really helped make it more cohesive with the other chapters since she's more in the know than some of the others.   
Michael's dream . . .damn, knew I forgot something. But that gives me an idea. evil grin I'd have to agree I like Dante's dream the best simply because it adds depth to Dante's character, yet I think it's interesting how the balance of all three in their varied weirdness make the chapter feel complete.   
I still disagree about Karasuma's attitude, but maybe that's because I wrote that section after rewatching some of the episodes where she has major mood swings. You can have Michael, I suppose, so long as I get Birkof! And teamwork is important. Go team! Synergy! Blech, barf, puke.   
"Log, log, it's big, it's heavy, it's wood. Log, log, it's better than bad, it's good!" It is amazing how reading all the chapters together makes a difference. Writing them all together helps too, but we knew there have been issues in the way of that lately. As for the Amon/Dante conversation, I originally saw them coming to an easier understanding with less head butting. But then I started really writing it and I realized that's so not the way things would go. Neither of them likes to give up control.  
Ah, a date with Dante--driving around in Quetzalcoatl. Actually, I don't think he would like that much . . . It's a smooth chapter maybe because I'm better at writing interlude character interaction stuff than writing action or strategy. Oh well.  
Whew, last review. I'm getting tired. :) Happy one hundred review. Yeah, I think it adds something to Karasuma's character that she's skeptical of Dante's stories. We got some major style points. Oh yeah. Robin rode that Vespa like a bat outta hell. Well we'll just have to see what Robin does to "make it up" to Michael.**

**To Yukari Youkai: The action continues. Yeah, he had to shoot her, but it'll be okay.**

**To Mikkyayaya: Thank you! It makes me feel good my story hooked you so much you read 15 chapters all at once. It feels strange to be the one giving hope to crossovers when I've never been much of a fan of them myself! But hey, maybe that's what it takes. LOL about the bumblebee story. I don't know if you've every watched any Monty Python, but it reminds me of a skit they did about Eric the Half-a-Bee. Sorry about another evil cliffhanger. **

**To Pyrosa: Thanks! Sorry I didn't put the quote in, but I tend to like writing the insanely cheesy kind of lines he said in the first game. Even though I groaned at them when I played the game, somehow they just make up a big part of Dante's character in my mind. As far as Amon shooting Robin--you got what you wanted! I was glad to hear someone actually wanted it since I already knew it was going to happen!**

**To Tiger of the Wind1: Thank you! Glad you enjoyed! Yeah, those crazy kids were doing a little bit o' somethin' somethin' in the car. And Michael will be okay. No shaming!**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: I'm not completely sure how many chapters are left since I like interludes so well, who knows . . . I can make two days go on for twenty chapters. Crazy. And next chapter, I promise, the AxR is going to kick into high gear.**

**To bravedragon: Thanks! Amon will save Robin, yes. But now I'm talking about the next chapter. Hee hee hee! You'll just have to wait and see!**

**To Sakura Rain: Thanks! I'll update as soon as I can.**


	22. All My Sins

**Author's Note: **

**Here we are finally . . . chapter twenty-two. Chapter two-two. Double two. Reverse it and it's the same thing--yes, it is indeed a palindrome. Why are you looking at me like that? No, I didn't just drink a frappuccino. No, I didn't just revive my college habit of eating pizza rolls and Tostitos cheese dip. Okay, so I'm a bad liar. **

**Anyway! You asked for it, and here it is. Well, some of it at least. No one asked for Zaizen to reprise his role as asshole of the year, but I'm afraid he just does what he wants most of the time 'cause he thinks he's Mr. Big Man of the STN-J. But, if you asked for angst, you will get it--shitloads of it. And I mean really big time. Here comes the dumptruck right now. Beep, beep, beep. Call the poopsmith. (Can you believe all it takes is a little caffeine and a few salty snacks to make me act like this?) And if you wanted to know what Zaizen was holding over Amon, get ready to find out. And if you asked why Michael didn't have a dream in the dream sequence chapter (this one's for you, lizalou42), then be careful what you wish for because it's probably not what you expected. If anyone is thoroughly confused by the dream, I will explain at the end of the chapter exactly what kind of crack I was smokin'. Note the numbers (since I can't get the asterisks to work!).   
If anyone thinks I'm insane and should be locked up in a padded cell, then tell Costco to stop stocking flats of frap' because frappuccino is my addiction. Otherwise, enjoy!**

Chapter 22

All My Sins

_"Dum de dum dum. Doo dee doo."_

_Blinking rapidly as he waited for his eyesight to adjust to the bright light above him, Michael attempted to make sense of the strange sounds around him. He thought he recognized several sound effects from Gundam Wing, but it was the nonsensical humming which truly disturbed him. Rolling on his side with a groan, Michael found himself facing a wall of circuitry riddled with flashing lights and spinning dials. A fan hummed on one end of the wall, though it was housed in a metal box that made it almost looked like a . . . computer fan. And the wall of circuitry actually kind of looked like an enormous motherboard. He could just make out the processor in the distance--it was at least as big as he was. What was going on? Where was he?_

_He almost rolled right over the circular hole in the middle of the platform he was laying on when he turned his head and caught sight of the short, chubby creature leaning over him. Large googly eyes regarded him curiously from behind silver goggles. "Hmm," the creature uttered in a strangely Ewok-like voice. It shivered slightly as it looked at him, its thick florescent pink fur quivering with the action. "You are the Michael," the creature cooed suddenly in awe. "You are the Master of the machine!"_

_"The machine . . ." Michael repeated, completely confused. "You mean the computer?"_

_"Yes, oh Master," the creature replied, bowing its head--which was in fact pretty much its entire body; Michael didn't see a neck anywhere, or legs for that matter. "The user of the machine. Your spells protect us from the evil spirit Badubada."_

_"Badubada," Michael echoed wonderingly. How had this strange creature known the password for his most precious locked files? "What are you, anyway?"_

_"I am a dumpling, of course."_** 1**_ Puffing itself up, it continued proudly, "I am one of the many servants of the great machine." Pointing to what looked like an oversized gerbil wheel, the so-called dumpling exclaimed, "It's my job to provide the power to open the great gate into the outer world. Would you like to see it, Master?" Before Michael had a chance to reply, the creature had waddled over to the wheel and began scurrying feverishly on it, turning the enormous gears hanging above them. A high pitched whirring noise roared to life, and suddenly the floor beneath Michael began to move toward a large opening expanding at the front end of the platform._

_A moment later, Michael found himself in the STN-J, though he was miniaturized in comparison to the office around him. Looking back at where he had come from, he recognized his computer and realized the platform he was sitting on was in fact the drawer of the CD-ROM. "What the hell?"_

_"Michael," a booming voice thundered, and Michael looked up to see a giant Amon towering over him. "Michael, wake up," Amon said, his voice distorting as the entire space around them morphed and twisted in front of Michael's eyes._

"Michael!" Amon said again, but this time his voice was its usual quiet tone and came from somewhere very near.

Struggling to focus his blurry vision on the dark shape crouched over him, Michael realized with a start that he had been dreaming and attempted to sit up, grasping Amon's arm and pulling on it for leverage. "Amon," he rasped, his throat dry as if he had slept for hours with his mouth hanging open. "What happened?" As his eyes finally came into focus, he found himself sitting in the middle of the office, his chair overturned on the floor next to him. He felt tears sting his eyes when he looked up to find his computer a black and charred mess on his desk, embers still glowing faintly in its ruined carcass. "No!" he whispered faintly. "Not Priscilla!"**2** The frown on Amon's face deepened when Michael attempted to crawl to his feet and examine the wreckage on his desk. Amon held him back effortlessly, forcing him to sit down on the empty chair at Robin's workstation. Frustration forced a growl out of Michaels throat, but he found himself feeling grateful to be sitting a moment later when an intense wave of nausea washed over him. Looking at Amon urgently, he explained mournfully, "She was my friend."

Amon only seemed annoyed. "Michael, I need you to focus for a minute. I see the burns on your face, but do you have any other injuries?"

Surprised, Michael reached up to feel the raw skin on his cheek, touching it gingerly as he tried to remember where the burn had come from. "I . . . I don't know." Amon pulled the arm Michael had lifted closer to examine it, and Michael noticed the blistered skin on his forearm for the first time, amazed that he couldn't feel the pain. He must have been in shock.

"What do you remember, Michael?" Amon asked insistently as he looked up again, watching Michael carefully and still holding his arm with a firm grip.

_What am I supposed to remember?_ Michael wondered absently. His gaze wandered around the room as his mind cast about for an answer. His eyes widened when he noticed the bloody rips in Amon's left sleeve. How had that happened? He answered his own question suddenly. The hunt. _Heat sears across my face. I raise my arm to block it but the flame burns into my skin. No! Robin, stop!_ Michael blinked, jerking out of the grip of the memory with a start. "Robin. She--she did this." Stunned by the realization, he looked down at the burn on his arm. _Why?_

"I don't think these burns are severe enough to require a doctor's attention," Amon said softly, his grey eyes still focused warily on Michael. "But you can't bandage them yourself." He stood up slowly, releasing Michael's arm.

"Where are you going?" Michael inquired timidly. He suddenly found he didn't want to be alone.

"I'm going to get the first aid kit. I'll be right back," Amon assured him before sweeping out of the room.

Michael stared blankly at the floor when Amon was gone, still in shock. Robin had attacked him. She had attacked him, and she had destroyed Priscilla.

His head snapped up suddenly. Priscilla was destroyed. That meant--

"Amon!" he cried, sitting up straighter. "The kill switch isn't working anymore. The cameras are back on!" The hunter did not reply; he must have been out of earshot.

The elevator dinged quietly and the doors whooshed open. Michael felt his pulse accelerate at the noise. Footsteps clapped angrily into the office, and Michael dropped his gaze. The footsteps came to a stop a few paces away, familiar, well-polished shoes just within the bounds of Michael's peripheral vision. "Boss . . ."

------

Robin was feeling slightly light-headed when she finally parked her Vespa in the STN-J parking lot. She knew it probably hadn't been the wisest decision to come here on her own--especially after Amon had expressly forbid her to come--but she couldn't help feeling as if this was something she needed to do. She did not want to even consider the possibility that her feelings were not her own, that they were simply an illusion created by Beatrice to use her again. Being controlled once was bad enough. Worrying whether or not the control was completely gone was far worse. No, she would rather believe the pull she felt was nothing more than the need to know Michael was all right, and to know he could forgive her for hurting him--that was, if he _could_ forgive her.

Yet there was more to the feeling than that. It felt almost like a premonition of something. A warning of danger. Dismissing the inexplicable feeling of foreboding in the pit of her stomach, Robin stepped into the elevator and forced herself to take a deep breath. For no reason she could think of, her heart was thudding in her chest by the time the doors opened again on the fifth floor. Why did she feel so afraid? Why did she feel as if something was terribly wrong?

Tentatively, she crossed the hall and paused just outside the office, hesitating at the hollow thud of an object hitting flesh followed by a soft whimper of pain. Her heart pounding in her ears, Robin peeked into the office slowly, straining to make out the shadowy figure looming over the dark shapes of the workstations at the center of the room. Another figure was huddled on the ground below it, the dim light from the moon framed in a window the only lumination in the space.

"Answer my question, Michael," Zaizen's voice demanded coldly. The faint light illuminated the angry planes of his face as he turned his head slightly, glaring down at the shape cowering below him. "I don't want to hurt you, but I'm not in the mood to play games. There's no point in trying to hide anything from me. It's easy to deduce where your burns came from. Robin used her craft on you, didn't she? You know what that means, don't you, Michael? It means she's losing control over her powers--she's becoming a witch."**3**

"No," Michael managed hoarsely between coughs, his voice panicked. "No, that's not how it happened!"

Robin tensed as she watched Zaizen crouch down in front of Michael, burning with the desire to use her craft to defend the hacker despite Zaizen's accusations about her lack of control, but she found the orbo still in her system prevented her from bringing her power to the surface. Zaizen grabbed Michael by the front of his shirt, raising his face to eye level. "I warned you," Zaizen said emotionlessly. "I warned all of you. But you failed to listen. You deliberately defied my orders as if you doubted my sincerity. But you don't doubt anymore, do you, Michael?" He landed a punch in Michael's midsection, eliciting another muffled cry of pain before releasing him and merely looking down at Michael's prone form for a few long moments before stating crisply, "I will only ask you this question one more time. Where is Amon?"

Seconds ticked by slowly in which Michael's shaky gasps for air were the only sound. Robin entered the room as silently as she could, staying hidden in the shadows as she approached them slowly. Standing leisurely, Zaizen took a few steps back and swung his leg back in preparation for a kick. "No!" Robin cried before she could even think about the consequences of making her presence known. She wasn't even aware of crossing the rest of the space between them as she suddenly found herself between Zaizen and Michael, shielding the hacker's injured body with her own. Zaizen's foot landed squarely in her back and pain enveloped her, drawing tears to her eyes.

"Well, if it isn't the little fire-witch herself," Zaizen snarled. "Have you come to use your craft against me as well?"

"Robin!" Michael managed weakly, slurring slightly. The dim light reflected off of his glasses as he strained his neck to look up at her. "What are you doing?! You shouldn't be here!"

"Why not?" Zaizen interrupted. "Don't you want to see her get hurt as you have been hurt, Michael? She attacked you, after all. You trusted her as a friend and she betrayed you. But you can't trust witches, Michael, and that's exactly what she is. A witch."

Another blow landed across Robin's back and tossed her against a nearby desk. She hit the metal hard enough to make the room spin as black spots danced across her vision. She realized obscurely that she was close to blacking out.

"Robin!" Michael cried despairingly, his eyes wide as he looked up at her, attempting to rise to his knees and failing miserably.

"You touch her again and you'll have a bullet in your back," a familiar voice snapped from across the room. Robin squinted through the haze swimming across her vision to see Zaizen turn and face the dark figure standing near the entrance of the briefing room with a gun pointed at him.

"Where have you been, Amon? Planning more tricks to keep me distracted?" Zaizen asked quietly with a bitter twist of a smile. "You know, there was a time when you would have been the last person I'd have expected to betray me. Even now, I can't help but feel a little amazed by your nerve. After all, you have the most to lose of them all. You should have known better than to allow yourself to get so attached to such a foolish girl." The last words, though directed at Amon, were spoken with his gaze focused on Robin.

A shot rang out, missing Zaizen by inches. "I wasn't bluffing," Amon stated coldly. "Back away from her now, or I _will_ kill you."

"Even knowing the consequences?" Zaizen sent a contemptuous look at Amon. "You know me well enough to realize I have failsafes in place. Is it not enough that you need me for your orbo supply? That resource would disappear with my death, Amon, and you would eventually become what you most fear: a witch, just like your dear mother. I saved you from that fate once. Would you risk it happening again?" Robin struggled to see Amon through her cloudy vision, but his face was a mask.

"I can live without the orbo," Amon replied quietly, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "I can learn to control my powers."

"My, my, haven't we changed our tune?" Zaizen replied in a haughty tone. "You really are in deep, aren't you Amon? You've started to believe you have a choice. But, you've underestimated me. I _do_ have failsafes in place, and my death _will_ set things in motion--things you don't want to happen." He paused and looked away for a moment, a wicked gleam in his eyes when he returned his gaze to Amon. "Simone had an accident today.**4** Did you know?"

Robin's vision had fully cleared just in time for her to see Amon's demeanor change suddenly and swiftly. At the mention of the name, his body had tensed considerably and his face had tightened with fear, but it was the look in his eyes that made her blood run cold; she had never seen such a look of intense horror on his face before. "What did you say?" he gasped in a strangled voice, and Robin returned her attention quickly to Zaizen.

"Don't even attempt to deny the truth, Amon," Zaizen replied, approaching Amon slowly. "I know all about Simone. I know how you've been trying to hide her existence from me."

Robin's stomach twisted into a knot as she listened to the Director's words, watching the agony in Amon's defeated expression and feeling doubts writhing inside of her. Who was this Simone, and why was she so important to Amon? Was she a relative--or perhaps she was a lover? Could Simone be the real reason Amon had denied her so fiercely? But that didn't make sense; he was dating Touko.

Shoving her frantic questions aside, she focused again on Zaizen. He was now standing within arm's reach of Amon with his chest against the barrel of Amon's gun. "I know about Simone," he repeated softly, "and I know you well enough to know what her death would do to you. She had an accident today . . . broke her leg. She'll recover from it--but she won't live beyond tomorrow if you pull that trigger."

Robin watched in terror as Amon crumbled before her eyes. Amon had always been so impervious; the realization that some things were too much for even him to bear made her feel as if the entire world had just lurched violently upside-down. She heard Amon's gun clatter to the floor, and bit her lower lip to hold back the tears filling her eyes. Amon made a soft sound of anguish, his shoulders slumping before he looked back up at Zaizen through scattered locks of hair with pure hatred burning in his dark eyes.

Taking a step closer, Zaizen gripped Amon's chin in one hand and growled, "You've worked for me long enough to know the price of disloyalty, Amon. When I give you an order, you follow it--or you pay the consequences. Those are the only options you have." His voice dropping to a whisper, he added, "The next time you betray me, Amon, Simone _will_ be the consequence."

Releasing him, Zaizen glanced back at Robin, smirking sourly. "Get what pleasure you can from the girl. You won't be touching Touko again. I'm through being generous." With those last cutting words, Zaizen headed for the elevator, straightening his jacket and smoothing back his hair.

Amon made no move to stop him.

------

Zaizen knew. How the bastard had found out, Amon didn't have a clue. But all that really mattered was that he knew, and that now she was in danger--in danger because of a father she didn't even know.

He barely knew anything about her. All he knew was her name . . . Simone. Her mother had been French. He'd met her during his training as a hunter with Solomon--before his powers manifested themselves and nearly took him over entirely. Before Zaizen had found him and used him as one of the first test subjects for orbo. Before he became Zaizen's slave. He wasn't even sure if he'd loved her. He had never allowed himself to get too close to anyone, but something in him changed when he learned he was going to be a father. Something in him became vulnerable.

Then, shortly before Simone's birth, he had felt his powers awakening. He knew what his fate would be once his powers asserted themselves. He knew what they had done to his mother. When Simone's mother died during childbirth, he knew what he had to do. He gave her up for adoption and tried to disappear, searching for the will to take his own life before he took someone else's and became a witch. Zaizen found him first. And now Zaizen had found her.

Air burned into his lungs suddenly as his body remembered its need to breathe. Hot tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, but he held them back with the strength of his anger, struggling to repress the uncontrollable tremors twitching through his muscles. Bright green eyes, vivid even in the darkness greeted him when he lifted his gaze. Blood veiled half of her face, leaking from a cut on her forehead, and he felt his trembling intensify. _Robin._ He had told her not to come, yet somehow he'd known all along she would find a way to come regardless. If only she had listened to him. If only Hattori hadn't moved the first aid kit, causing him to take so long searching for it. If only he had heard Zaizen's voice before the bastard hurt her or Michael. If "if only"s were tears, he could drown the world with them.

Stiffly, he crossed the room to Robin, inquiring in a hollow voice, "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," she answered firmly, looking at him as if she wasn't so sure he could say the same about himself.

"Michael?" He knelt down next to where the hacker was curled up into a fetal ball, rocking ever so slightly. He had looked bad when Amon had first arrived at the office. Now, he looked as if he had been through a war. "Do I need to call an ambulance?"

"No," Michael answered darkly. "He wouldn't want me to leave the building anyway."

"To hell with what he wants."

"How can you say that right now?" Michael snapped back at him, his expression twisted by anger and pain as he forced himself into a sitting position.

"Michael," Amon whispered, feeling more helpless than he had ever felt in his life. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. So am I." Pushing himself to his feet and using a nearby desk for support, Michael shrugged off Amon's offer to help him.

"Michael!" Robin cried, biting her lower lip as she watched Michael stumble away.

Glancing at her coldly, Michael whispered, "Just leave me alone."

Amon watched Michael leave the room with barely controlled rage, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Still unable to stop his body from shaking as if he were in Antarctica without a coat, he found the nearest chair and sank down into it, burying his head in his hands and clenching his fingers into his hair to keep himself under control. He wanted nothing more than to break something right now--perhaps a whole slew of something's--but he didn't trust himself to keep from accidentally hurting someone else in the process. So, he turned in on himself and closed off the rest of the world, forgetting for the moment that he was not alone. He sat like that for what felt like hours, angry tears falling silently through his fingers to his knees and the floor below. He felt as if he had physically disconnected from his body as he drowned himself in self-loathing, anger and torment, unaware of his surroundings and unaware of the silent presence only a few steps away.

When he finally came back to himself, he felt warmth pressing against his knees and the top of his head, fingertips gently tracing soothing circles over his scalp and down his neck to his shoulders. The position reminded him chillingly of his dream, but he quickly banished the memory from his mind, slowly allowing himself to accept the comfort being so generously offered. The soft whisper of chanted words fell to his ears, though he was unable to make sense of them. It was only after a few minutes of listening and relaxing in the tentative embrace that he realized the words were Latin, and they were a prayer. She was praying for him, most likely for Michael and for Karasuma, and maybe even for herself as well.

And she was praying for his child. He wasn't sure where the thought had come from, yet he knew almost certainly that it was true. She didn't even know Simone was his child, but he could almost guarantee Robin was praying for her even without knowing who she was or what she meant to him. Fresh pain shot through him, and he found himself gasping for breath, his hands, which had fallen to his lap, were suddenly resting on her hips as if he were trying to gain stability from merely touching her.

The praying paused, as did her hands' movements. "Amon?"

He needed to push her away. He needed to gather his wits, stop crying like a baby and escape her touch. Sitting here like this . . . so close to her . . . was dangerous. His body did not obey him. He found one of his hands sliding around her slender waist, pulling her closer as he slowly raised his head, nuzzling her stomach gently as he lifted his gaze to look up at her. She winced when he tightened his grip on her, and he pulled away from her swiftly as he remembered she was injured. _What am I thinking?_ "I'm sorry, Robin," he breathed.

Her fingers were slowly tracing his hairline and threading through his hair, fingertips just barely grazing his cheeks as she looked down at him sadly. He found himself shivering in response and swallowing hard. "We need to leave," he murmured, remembering the surveillance cameras suddenly and realizing Zaizen could be watching them right now.

"What about Michael?" She murmured as he gently pushed her away from him enough for him to stand, though she had not stepped far enough back to prevent their bodies from touching once he was on his feet. He nearly groaned in frustration at her unconscious action; he was drowning in far too many emotions at the moment to deal with this familiar torture.

"I don't think he will accept any help from anyone right now," Amon murmured. "Or at least not from either of us." He sidestepped her touch nimbly, but allowed her to take his hand when she reached for it. Her hand felt so fragile and small in his own, and anger burned in him again at his failure to protect her. He had failed in that task too many times in the last few hours to count. Scooping up his gun without pausing as he made his way to the elevator, he put it away swiftly and struggled with the insane wish that it contained something other than orbo so he could use it on himself. Robin followed him without complaint, though he knew his fast pace could not have been easy for her. Realizing this, he slowed slightly and sighed when the elevator doors closed behind them.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Doujima's number with one hand, feeling Robin's clutching grip on his other hand and reluctant to break it. The phone rang several times before Doujima answered. "Amon?" Her voice was a compromise between panic and dread. "Listen, don't freak out or anything, but--"

"You lost Robin. I know." He didn't bother to hide the disapproval in his voice.

"She's with you?" Doujima asked hopefully.

"Yes. How is Karasuma?"

"She'll be fine. The doctor wants to keep her in the hospital overnight but she should be able to go home tomorrow. Did you want to talk to her? She's awake."

"Put her on," he replied with a sigh, unsure why he was indulging Doujima's attempt to avoid dealing with his anger.

"Amon?" Karasuma's voice asked after a few rustling sounds. She sounded exhausted.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've felt better . . . How is Michael?"

"Not so good." Amon paused, considering whether or not to worry her further. "Zaizen knows about our deception."

"What did he do?" Karasuma demanded angrily, her weary voice gaining strength.

Amon didn't reply directly, knowing she would understand the answer by his omission. "Michael will recover, though I was going to ask Doujima or Sakaki to come check on him later."

Then she asked a question which surprised him. "Did he hurt _you_, Amon?"

Emotion choked his throat for a moment, and he found himself squeezing Robin's hand hard enough to make her look up at him in surprise. "Not really," he replied, though he knew she would easily see through his lie. _Not physically anyway._

"Amon," Karasuma said solemnly, as if just coming to a realization, "Doujima said Robin was with you."

"Yes," he replied quietly.

"Oh God . . ." Karasuma breathed.

"She'll be all right," he said reassuringly, attempting to reassure himself at the same time. They were standing in front of his car now, but he couldn't unlock the door with both of his hands occupied, so he simply stood there with Robin glued to his side. "I'm taking her home now." He almost yelped when he felt Robin's free hand fishing around in his coat pocket. Her brows were creased in concentration as she searched and he almost dropped the phone when her hand got a little too close to a sensitive area. Then, to his relief, she smiled faintly as she pulled out his keys and turned to unlock the door.

" . . . and I'll tell Doujima to check in on Michael," Karasuma was saying when he was able to return his attention to the conversation. "Just worry about yourself and Robin right now, okay?"

"I will. Take care of yourself." he managed before he hung up, his voice a little ragged. He had a feeling Karasuma had noticed the strain in his voice, though she surely had a different understanding of the reason.

Robin had collapsed in the front seat of his car, her eyes half-closed as her head lolled against the headrest. Her hand was still firmly entwined with his own though. Gently, he disentangled their fingers and lifted her feet into the car, turning her to sit properly in the seat before closing the door. He found the keys already resting in the ignition slot when he slid into the car next to her, and he paused a moment before starting the car, looking at her as she wriggled slightly in her seat to get more comfortable. Tenderly, he brushed a hand over her cheek, realizing how beautiful she looked to him, even with her hair tangled and blood caked on one side of her face.

As he looked at her, he realized he had been fighting a losing battle against his emotions all along. His confession of love when he had been in the throes of delirium had not been merely a creation of his feverish mind; it was real. He didn't know where they would go from here--he didn't even know what was right or wrong anymore. All he knew was that this fragile girl sitting next to him had claimed his heart in spite of every effort he had made to stop her. And he was growing tired of fighting.

-------

**1 If you look dumpling up in the American Heritage College dictionary, you will find that definition three reads as follows: "A short chubby creature." This bit of vocabulary trivia is what spawned a crazy bout of imagination which resulted in the creation of an entire race of tiny little dumplings who live inside one's computer and make it work--or not work as the case may be. Blue screen of death? Fatal exception? Kernel panic? Blame the dumplings. Needless to say, I couldn't help throwing them into my story.**

**2 Priscilla is the name of the somewhat sentient computer on a sci-fi miniseries I watched when I was a kid called Earth Star Voyager. I recorded it and watched it over and over and over . . . My mom eventually confiscated the tape and recorded over it, I think, but I watched it so much I still remember a lot of it. Anyway, I'm glad I could work in a little homage to it. As for the way in which Michael mourns for his computer--I have to admit the Red vs. Blue influence again.**

**3 "And what do we do with witches? Burn them!!!!!" Sorry, couldn't help a little Monty Python quote there. **

**4 Nikita fans will recognize this name as the name of Michael's dead wife. I took it completely out of context and used it here just because I couldn't help the irony. Actually, the idea for Amon to have a daughter he was hiding came from a Nikita episode as well. Do I ever have a completely original idea? Yes. I've had one or two . . . But maybe I'm just easily influenced. At least I admit it, I guess. :)**

**So, what did everyone think of Amon's reasons for putting up with Zaizen's shit? Don't worry, I will explain more in the next chapter since I kept it fairly vague, at least as far as his powers go. They explained so little about his past in the series, I felt fairly comfortable about coming up with my own version--and we're already AU anyway. I'm really bad about torturing characters. Hope I didn't go too far, though I suppose that's all a matter of opinion. And, if anyone's interested, the title of this chapter is the name of a song by Mandalay. It's a cool song, once you get past the fact--if you're a mac user--that the chord repeated a number of times in the beginning sounds exactly like the sound macintosh computers make when they boot up.**

**To AngelD: Thanks, but I'm curious what parts seemed to drag on. I know I'm wordy at times, but I'm just curious which parts you found boring so I can improve.**

**To Seashah: I'm glad it was exciting--after you've been working on something for a while it's hard to tell. Yeah, I thought it was about time Doujima showed signs of liking Sakaki too. **

**To Inuki: It's good to get a review from you again. I know I didn't fulfill your request for skin, but just wait until next chapter. **

**To KiReI AyUmI: Do you feel sorry for Amon now? He may be stupid at times, but at least he has some angsty excuses, huh?**

**To Jcgamer: Thank you! As soon as I get through some more of the games on my "to play" list, I'll check out Chaos Legion. Can't wait until DMC3.**

**To Imo: Thanks. I don't want it to end either. Can you tell? **

**To AnimeReviewer790: Thanks for all the wow's! I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**To Pomegranate Queen: I know exactly what you mean. I'm having fun too. Mostly the connection between Dante and Robin is the "innate Robin-ness" which I have played up in this fic. But I don't know . . . there may be more. It's another one of those secrets I'm keeping from myself.**

**To Tiger of the Wind1: Good job. Somebody had to discipline those kids.**

**To Sakura Rain: Did you get what you wanted? If not, the next chapter should satisfy you. :)**

**To bravedragon: Thank you! I didn't take as long to update. But I'm still evil. **

**To Beautiful Witch Hunter Robin: Thanks. I'm working on it.**

**To Dark Mistress Meli: I didn't take quite so long to update this time. . . don't hurt me. Jk :)**

**To Ellie: It is indeed my first posted fanfic. Do you really want to read my original story? I'm reworking parts of it (because I'm never satisfied--I'm such a perfectionist) but I'd be interested in having new people read it eventually. It has truly evil villains and my characterization of Amon is similar in many ways to a character (or two) in my original story . . . Duncan syndrome again. Anyway, thanks for reading and I'm glad I could interest another person in DMC.**

**To Pyrosa: Now you have your answer about Zaizen. Yeah, Amon hasn't been doing much to help his karma. I didn't think the violence was too bad, but I've also read a lot of Laurell K Hamilton and I'm afraid it may have made me a bit overly accepting of it since her books can get rather gorey at times. I got Doujima's "stuck on stupid" line from a former coworker of mine. It always cracks me up.**

**To AVAAntares: I wasn't sure whether or not to use the green orb, but then I just decided, what the hell. Thanks for the info on the Doujima-kun confusion. Who said Dante didn't watch Highlander? :) He just doesn't want to admit it. Oh, and I feel stupid about the Harry deal. I wonder if I got the idea his name was actually Harry from the fansub I watched or if I just assumed. Either way, it's good to know, though I'm kind of disappointed because I enjoyed calling him Harry--it reminded me of Joe from Highlander somehow.**

**To yukari youkai: Mmm . . . chocolate. Thank you! You are too kind. I'm blushing again. **

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: So, I updated. And I gave you a little AxR. I haven't gotten a chance to read your fics, but I haven't had a lot of time to read lately. I'm working on it.**

**To Roseblade22: Zaizen just became more bastardly. Amon didn't kill him, but someone might have to before this is all over. Like me. BWHAHAHAHA. We'll just have to see . . .**


	23. Beyond the Invisible

**Author's Note: **

**Yes, I know. I been bad. It's been awhile. But between the website's random spurts of offline status lately and my lack of inspiration due to the loss of my cat companion I've been worthless as a writer. Rumour was a part of my life for the last ten years until he died almost two weeks ago, so losing his crazy kitty presence has been quite the adjustment for me. It was especially hard to take since he seemed to be in perfect health and his death was completely unexpected. He died in his sleep though and looked really peaceful, so I'm glad he didn't have to suffer. I even got a chance to say goodbye, though I didn't know that's what it was, because he came to visit me the night he died and spent more time than usual with me. Ah, but enough sad stuff. Let's get on to the angsty fic! (Do ya see why it's been kind of hard to write since I've had a little angst of my own?) I'm just glad I have my writing bug back! I hope you enjoy what the little bug and I produced. Boy, did that ever sound wrong. But things have been wrong ever since I met that Randy guy. Sorry, inside joke.**

Chapter 23

Beyond the Invisible

Robin stirred from her half-sleep at the sound of a car door snapping shut. Grumbling quietly at the intrusion into her drowsy world hovering on the edge of consciousness, she squirmed slightly in her seat when she heard the door on her side of the car open and felt a cool breeze sneak inside, stirring the hem of her skirt. Her small frown of discomfort faded when she felt a hand reach across her to unfasten her seat belt, the warmth of a body leaning close. Hands slipped beneath her knees and around her waist, lifting her gently out of the car and closer to the warm chest. She had only moved a few inches, though, before the pressure increasing against the bruises on her back caused her to involuntarily cry out in pain.

Now fully awake, she found herself looking up into charcoal eyes darkened with worry. "I'm sorry," Amon murmured, his voice soft and fragile--two words she had never thought to use in describing Amon.

Attempting to reassure him with a weak smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to pull herself out of the car. In the end, he did most of the work since she merely clung to him as he rose to his feet. She sighed softly as she leaned against him, feeling so weary she was content to merely stand there hanging on him all night if it meant she didn't have to move again. Her legs felt like marshmallow, and she barely had the energy to simply stay standing.

As if he sensed this, Amon reached down and hooked his hands behind her knees, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist. She obligingly clung to him more tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck and drinking in the comfort of his presence. Amon closed the car door gently before heading for the building, wrapping one hand securely around her lower back low enough to avoid her bruises. Robin suddenly felt rather like a child, for though she had never been carried like this when she was young, she had seen parents carrying their children in this manner. She wasn't quite sure what to think of that feeling in context, but she was also unsure she even wanted to consider its greater significance at all; for the moment, she was simply satisfied enjoying the sensation of feeling so safe and protected.

When they were standing outside her door, Amon paused and murmured in her ear, "We're here," before releasing his firm grip on her waist. Sliding back down to her feet and relinquishing their closeness with reluctance, she turned to face her door groggily, grateful for the steadying touch of one of his hands still lingering on her waist. Unlocking the door quickly and fumbling only a little with the keys, she stumbled inside, reaching back to snag his arm and ensure that he followed her; she was not about to let him perform one of his typical emotional turnabouts and leave her alone right now.

Bending down despite the complaints of her abused body, she reached for her boots and attempted to unknot the laces. The next thing she knew, the room had turned sideways and she was in Amon's arms again as he guided her to sit on the low step a few feet inside the door. Feeling rather disoriented, she looked up at him, searching his eyes fearfully. He did not explain what had just happened, focusing instead on taking over the task of removing her shoes. She gave in to him, watching his fingers deftly untie the laces which had seemed like a hopeless puzzle to her lethargic mind.

He pulled her to her feet after tugging off her shoes and tossing them on the floor next to his own, guiding her into the kitchen before pushing her down into a chair. She watched him search fruitlessly around the kitchen for a moment, entranced by his frenetic movements before she realized what he was most likely looking for: a washrag probably, and bandages. "In the hall closet," she mumbled so softly she wasn't sure he had even heard her, but he quickly disappeared down the hallway, only to reappear a minute later with the expected objects in hand.

She must have dozed off then, because the next thing she was aware of was the sharp sting of pain just above her right eyebrow as Amon gently cleaned away the dried blood surrounding the cut on her head. Biting her lower lip to hold back the tears welling in her eyes at the pain, she watched Amon as he worked. His expression was so incredibly intense and focused she might have laughed had the circumstances been different; he looked as if he were doing surgery, not cleaning a simple cut. He took just as much care cleaning the cuts on her arm, and she continued watching him silently, feeling far more awake than she had a few minutes before--partially due to the discomfort of having her injuries probed, but also partially because the reality of their situation had finally caught up with her.

A week ago, she wouldn't have believed Amon could be so gentle. He had rarely treated her with kindness before, and the few kind gestures he had made--the purchase of her glasses for one--usually came in the company of reprimands and anger. Somehow she had always known her partner had a good heart behind his aloof demeanor and callous attitude, but she had not allowed herself to imagine, except for in her most private of fantasies, that he would ever truly treat her as his partner, let alone his friend. Yet in the last week, he had shown her a side of himself she had hoped, but never entirely believed, existed. She still didn't know if he considered her his partner; for every instance in which he asked for her opinion or followed her lead, there was another instance in which he betrayed her trust or failed to include her. She didn't even know if he truly considered her his friend. But she did know that on some level he did care for her, and she suspected that at this moment, he needed her as much as she needed him.

"Amon," she murmured when he had finished cleaning the cuts on her arm, wishing he would raise his gaze to meet hers instead of continuing to look down, his face shadowed by unruly locks of black hair. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not talk about it, but--"

"You want to know about Simone," he interrupted, his gaze still focused on her arm as he began wrapping it in layers of gauze.

She hesitated for a moment, marveling at his ability to predict the direction of her thoughts. Of all the hundreds of questions clamoring in her head at the moment, how had he known that would be the first one she would ask? "Yes."

"Simone is my daughter," Amon replied simply.

A gasp escaped Robin's lips before she could think to hold it back. Her mind raced to integrate this piece of information into the fractured enigma of puzzle pieces which represented her understanding of Amon. She realized she couldn't find a place for it anywhere; she was still missing far too many pieces to complete the picture. "Your daughter," she echoed, trying to imagine Amon as a father and realizing it wasn't as impossible as she might have thought. He may not have been the one in charge of the STN-J, but Amon had certainly taken on the role of father figure at the office. Zaizen never got involved enough to play the part, and the Chief's involvement generally ended when they left the office, but Amon lead them effortlessly whether they were at the office or out on a hunt. Despite his constant emotional detachment, his actions made it obvious that he still worried about them and was doing his best to look after them. He bailed them out when they made mistakes--though not without a stern chastisement--and he inspired trust and obedience even when his actions were inscrutable. She might not have been the best judge of a person's suitability as a father since she had never had one of her own, but she knew enough to recognize at least a few of the necessary traits.

Then a thought occurred to her: how had he kept his daughter hidden all of this time? She couldn't be living with him. And he was dating Touko, so the mother must not be around either. As if he had read her mind once again, he clarified softly as he finished tying off her bandage, "Simone doesn't know about me. She was adopted by a couple shortly after her birth. She doesn't know they aren't her real parents."

"Her mother?" Robin asked tentatively, unsure how far she should push this topic of conversation, no matter how much she wanted to know the truth. Amon had always been extremely closed-mouthed about personal issues in the past, and she doubted he would give her much more information than she absolutely needed to know now.

Releasing her arm, but still keeping his gaze far from her own, he answered with a short sigh, "Her mother . . . is dead."

"I'm sorry," Robin breathed, dropping her gaze to her hands, now both cradled in her lap. She suddenly felt guilty for forcing Amon to talk about a subject which was obviously so painful for him.

He covered one of her hands lightly with his own, the delicate touch of his calloused fingertips against her skin making her shiver. She looked up again to find him looking at her with an intent expression. "You shouldn't apologize for things that aren't your fault," he said so softly she had to strain to hear his words. Turning his attention to packing away the bandages, he continued in a hollow voice. "It's true that Simone's mother is dead, but Simone is actually better off this way. It gives her the opportunity to grow up beyond the reach of Solomon and outside their influence." He paused, his voice breaking slightly and his hand faltering as he slid the antibacterial cream into the first aid kit. "That's why I never wanted Zaizen to find out about her. I didn't want her to have to pay for my sins."

This time it was Robin's turn to reach for him as she slid her fingers over his hand, surprised to find him trembling ever so slightly. "What are we going to do, Amon? Zaizen has to be stopped."

"_We_ are going to do nothing," Amon snapped, startling her with his vehemence. "_I_ will take care of him myself if I have to, but I don't want you involved."

"But Amon--"

"No. I won't have you paying for my sins either." He met her gaze again with a sad expression twisting his features, such anguish burning in his eyes that her heart ached with the desire to soothe it away.

"Zaizen is not your responsibility alone, Amon. We've all worked for him without knowing what kind of a monster he is, so we're all responsible for bringing him to justice." She paused, watching his face for a reaction but finding none. "If I had been able to use my power tonight, I think I might have burnt him to ashes on the spot. No one's ever made me that angry before."

His grey eyes focused on her for several long moments, the emotions clouding them too tangled for her to interpret. "I made you promise to defend yourself against him with your craft," he began softly, "but then I took away your ability to use it when you needed it. I was too late to stop Beatrice from using you, and then I was too late to stop Zaizen from hurting you or Michael."

Robin found herself frowning. "Now you're the one taking blame for things beyond your control."

"We have less than twenty-four hours to stop Beatrice," he replied, his expression darkening and his mask slipping enough to let his weariness show through. "We are injured and exhausted, and we have no clue how to even find her, much less put a stop to her plans."

"We will find a way," she responded resolutely, the determination in her voice causing him to look at her in surprise, his features softening.

"How can you be so certain?" he asked quietly, the insecurity in his voice making her own confidence waver.

Refusing to show how much she depended on his strength to bolster her own, she replied firmly, "Beatrice's plans are tainted by wicked, self-serving desires. Her wishes to rule this world with her fellow demons are opposed to the wishes of every human being wanting to continue living. Our wishes cannot count for nothing. God knows the needs of even the tiniest living creature--he hears our prayers, and he will give us the strength to defeat her."

His expression tight, he leaned back in his chair and turned his attention to the dimly lit living room. "I don't know if I believe in your God anymore, Robin. I want to . . . but I'm just not sure I can." **(1)**

"He still believes in you, Amon," she whispered faintly in reply, "even if you no longer believe in him."

"Well," he sighed quietly, rising to his feet slowly, and pulling her out of the chair with a gentle grip on her uninjured arm, "I suppose it doesn't matter in the end anyway." He brushed a stray bang out of her face. "You're the one with the faith to get us through this, and I _do_ believe in you."

Robin felt tears stinging her eyes suddenly. Her hands had found their way to his shoulders, seemingly of their own volition, but she gasped when she felt the shredded fabric on his left shoulder and sleeve. Blinking away her tears, she looked closer and saw dried blood crusted around the rents in his coat. "Amon, you're hurt!" His eyes widened slightly before glancing down at his shoulder as if he had forgotten about the wound entirely. Before he could protest, she pushed him back into his chair, uncertain where her sudden burst of strength had come from, but grateful for it.

"It doesn't hurt," he commented, watching her as she began pulling his coat off of him carefully. "Dante gave me something that took away the pain."

"It should still be cleaned and bandaged," she replied insistently, pushing the coat over the back of the chair and reaching for the buttons of his undercoat, trying to ignore the darkened patch of deep red staining the fabric. She was so intent on the task at hand that she didn't even consider the intimacy of the situation until she had reached the last button and began removing the jacket, her fingers brushing against his chest with only the thin material of his undershirt separating their skin. A blush instantly heated her cheeks as realization hit her and she risked a quick glance at his face to find him looking at her with the same kind of dark, fiery expression she had seen in his eyes the night before.

Forcing herself to concentrate, she gingerly finished removing the undercoat from his injured shoulder before tearing away the tattered remains of his shirt surrounding the wound. She turned to the sink to rinse out the washrag and dampen it again, but found a wave of dizziness threatening to upset her balance as she turned back to him. Exhaling softly in frustration as she swayed on her feet, she felt his hands steadying her with a firm grip on her waist.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he stated with a touch of anger in his voice. "You likely have a concussion and should be in bed asleep right now. I can take care of this myself." **(2)**

Ignoring his arguments, she avoided his gaze, though she could still feel it burning into her as she continued cleaning away the long lines of blood crisscrossing his shoulder. He did not react to her actions; in fact, he didn't show any sign of pain at all. After a few moments of cleaning, she understood why. When the last layer of dried blood had been washed away, she did not find deep gashes in his skin as she had expected; instead, she found faint lines of pink, nearly healed and barely visible. He did react slightly in discomfort when she touched this sensitive skin, but the wounds were entirely closed and no fresh blood came to the surface. "Amon . . ." she breathed in amazement. "It's healed already."

He raised an eyebrow as he turned his attention to his shoulder again. A wry smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "It seems that orb Dante gave me did more than simply ease the pain." Relief washed over her as she realized her panicked worries over his health were unnecessary. Unfortunately, her newfound reservoir of strength leaked out of her along with her anxiety, and she found herself grateful for his support as her knees went weak again and she leaned against him to remain standing. "Are you satisfied now?" he demanded, anger returning to his voice. "My injuries are far from life-threatening. You, on the other hand, look like you're half dead."

Pushing himself to his feet, he shrugged out of the other half of his undercoat before leading her down the hall to her room--she was too exhausted to even wonder how he knew the way. He pushed her onto the edge of the bed before glancing around the sparse bedroom for something. "You can't sleep in those clothes," he muttered in a halting voice. Then he noticed a discarded article of clothing hanging over the footboard of the bed. Picking up the oversized t-shirt, he pushed it into her hands quickly before looking away from her. She watched him curiously as he swallowed and cleared his voice before offering hesitantly, "Do you . . . need help . . . ?" It was difficult to tell for sure in the dim moonlight illuminating her room, but his pale skin seemed darker than usual, and she had to wonder if it could be possible that Amon was blushing. **(3)**

Her own cheeks burning, she replied quickly, "I can do it." Without another word, he abruptly turned his back on her, apparently waiting for her to change. Turning the t-shirt right side out, she set it down before fumbling with the buttons on her shirt, wincing as she worked her way out of it. She had a bit of difficulty unzipping her skirt since it forced her to strain her muscles, but she hurried to finish the process of undressing when she saw Amon flinch slightly at her soft gasp of pain. Her clothes discarded on the floor at her feet, she struggled back onto the bed, murmuring, "I'm done," though she wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him or even why he had stayed at all.

A moment later, he was pulling back the covers and helping her slide beneath them, tucking her into bed. She could do nothing but look up at him in shock, unbelieving that this was the same man she had worked with for several months now--the man who only rarely seemed able to spare a shred of approval or kindness for her and who generally treated her as if her mere existence annoyed him. Granted, he had shown a gentler side of himself lately, but sometimes his uncharacteristic actions still temporarily halted her mental processes.

When he was finished arranging her blankets and she was still gaping up at him in shock, he leaned over her and placed a feather-light kiss against her forehead, careful to avoid the bruised side of her face. She caught the tattered remnants of his shirt when he started to pull away, feeling a wave of panic at the thought of being alone. "Amon," she pleaded in a small voice, "please. Don't go."

"I'm not leaving," he murmured back. "I'll just be in the other room."

"Please," she whispered again, her hands still twisted into the thin fabric of his shirt.

Sighing softly, a faint smile touched his lips as he teased, "You're a little old to be afraid of monsters under the bed, aren't you, Robin?"

Frowning in hurt at the insult, she retorted quietly, "You know that's not what I'm afraid of."

"Yes," he whispered finally in resignation. "I know. I just don't think this is such a good idea."

"Please," she begged one more time, her voice so small and pathetic she felt a little embarrassed by it.

But that final plea must have pushed him over the edge since, without another objection, he disentangled her fingers from his shirt gently before climbing up on the bed next to her, laying down top of the covers and pulling her close, his arm thrown across her waist and her face tucked up against his neck. "Now, go to sleep," he instructed firmly.

Cuddling up against the comfort of his weight and warmth, she felt herself drifting off to sleep almost before the words had escaped his lips.

Amon glanced at the alarm clock glowing from Robin's bedside table before dropping his head back to the pillow with a sigh.

Four in the morning. Again. This time though, despite his weariness, he hadn't drifted off to sleep long enough to even have a dream.

The girl curled up against his side with her head nestled in the crook of his arm snuggled a little closer before echoing his sigh, though hers was far sweeter than his own. He was glad to see she was still deeply asleep and undisturbed by his restlessness. Stroking one hand lightly over her silky hair, he watched her as she slept, her creamy skin almost glowing in the moonlight flooding through the gauzy curtain. She looked like an angel, and yet, a demon had its claws in her, and unless he could find a way to stop that demon, Beatrice would use Robin to open the gates of hell and bring an end to life as they knew it.

Sighing again and rolling away from her slowly, he attempted, as he had done on several other occasions already during the course of the night, to pull out of her reach and slip off the bed. Sleep was hard enough to find with all the thoughts and concerns troubling his mind, but it was nearly impossible to attain in such close proximity to Robin, with the scent of her skin filling his nostrils and her silken puffs of breath on his neck. Unfortunately, as she had done in response to every other escape attempt he had made, Robin instinctively followed him, curling herself even closer, this time her head sliding to rest on his chest. She made a soft sound of contentment in her sleep, and he arched his head back on the pillow, suppressing a groan of frustration.

He felt vaguely guilty about the situation, knowing it had been foolish of him to indulge her request in the first place, but also realizing it was simply another example of her ability to break through his defenses and force him to act against his better judgment. He had to admit it was comforting to hold her in his arms and know she was safe, but he found the sensation quickly making him feel possessive of her, which was an unhealthy feeling for him to have. She did not belong to him, nor did he even deserve to have her; he did not deserve to claim something so pure and undeniably good. Nevertheless, looking down at the blond head burrowed against his chest and the delicate hand snagged in the front of his shirt, he found himself wondering whether it even mattered anymore what he did or did not deserve. _I may not be worthy of claiming her, but she has certainly laid claim to me. How am I supposed to keep pushing her away?_

Regardless of his uncertainty, his first responsibility right now was to keep Robin alive and to destroy Beatrice. Zaizen was next on his list, but that particular task would have to wait until later. Retribution against Zaizen would take some careful maneuvering and strategizing; Zaizen had far too many failsafes in place to warrant anything other than extreme caution. Amon knew the details would work themselves out in the end, but of one thing he was certain: Zaizen would suffer. It would be Zaizen's turn to beg for mercy. Amon himself had never done such a thing; he had kept quiet and never made a sound, no matter how brutal the beating. But Zaizen . . . Amon knew without a doubt the man would crumble eventually.

A bitter smile touched Amon's lips as he looked around the room and considered the irony of the fact that he was lying in Touko's apartment plotting how to destroy her father. The circumstances were simply too bizarre for words. Touko had never been terribly close to her father, but Amon doubted that meant she would support an attempt on Zaizen's life. Killing a lover's family members was not exactly acceptable. Not that Touko could really be considered his lover anymore anyway; Zaizen had made it clear such a thing was no longer an option, but Amon had decided he was no longer interested in continuing their relationship even before that point. However, Touko had also always been rather possessive of him, so he doubted that, even if she knew their relationship was over, she could accept him spending the night in bed with a fifteen-year-old girl snuggled up against his side, especially when that girl was her roommate and that bed was in her apartment.

Smothering the now familiar torrent of guilt, Amon glanced at the clock again. Four fifteen. Combing a hand through his untidy hair and scratching his fingernails over his scalp with almost painful pressure, he came to a decision. If he didn't find a way out of this bed in the next five minutes, either his brain was going to explode--leaving a rather messy situation behind for Robin--or he was going to lose the battle against his restraint once and for all and instigate something incredibly inappropriate and unlawful involving his bedmate. She would likely enjoy the experience, but that was not really the issue. His choice was clear.

He managed to extricate himself from the dangerous situation with a minute and a half left to spare, though he found himself staring down at the bed for twice that much time, watching Robin's chest rise and fall in slow, even breaths and feeling a pang of regret for leaving the reassurance of her closeness.

Then, he turned on his heel and silently slipped out into the hallway, shutting the door halfway behind him. Turning on a lamp in the living room, he retrieved his phone from the pocket of his coat before sinking down into the couch. He was surprised to find he had several messages, but then he remembered he had never turned the ringer on again after the hunt. Pushing the button for voicemail, he put the phone to his ear to minimize the volume and avoid waking Robin.

"You have three new messages," the clinically mechanical voice informed him. "First message, 1:38 am . . ."

A burst of feminine laughter erupted on the phone but quieted quickly. "Wow, you might want to change your voice mail greeting, Amon," Doujima exclaimed, her voice still colored with laughter as she continued at a rapid pace, "I guess Michael hacked into your mailbox sometime last week and he and Sakaki redid the greeting as a joke--" _They did what?_ Amon suppressed his flash of anger to concentrate on listening to the rest of the message.

"Hey," Sakaki's voice said from the background, "leave me out of it. I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Oh, you're such a little liar," Doujima accused Sakaki before sighing in annoyance. "Anyway, Amon, I was just calling to let you know we checked in on Michael and got him all fixed up. He'll be all righty-ringy-roo in no time. Karasuma said we shouldn't bug you, but I thought it would ease your mind to know . . ."

"Jesus Christ, Doujima," Sakaki shrieked suddenly, "do you think you could try to at least stay on the frickin' road half the time?"

"I _am_ on the road, freaktard!" Doujima shouted before reigning in her voice again with difficulty. "Um, so, I guess that's about it. Oh, and we discussed the, um . . . situation concerning the Director . . . and we think it might be a good idea for you and Robin to avoid the office tomorrow. I mean, I know that's your decision and all, but we don't have time to be patching everyone up all the time if we're going to kick Beatrice's little demon ass tomorrow night."

"Omigod, Doujima, just give me the phone!" Sakaki cried after a squeal of tires and a loud honk. Several rustles and curses later, Sakaki said into the phone, "Um, sorry about that. Doujima drank like a triple espresso cappuccino when we were at the hospital and she doesn't seem to realize she's moving like ten times faster than the world around her." He paused, seemingly to collect his thoughts. "Damn, this is a long message. I can't believe it hasn't cut me off yet--"

"End of message. To delete this message--" the computerized voice cut in suddenly and Amon hit the delete button. "Message deleted. Next message, 1:43 am."

"Uh, it's me again," Sakaki said when the message started, chuckling under his breath. "I forgot how funny that greeting was . . . the cactuars kill me." Cactuars? Just what kind of greeting did they make? And what the hell was a cactuar, anyway? "I just called back to let you know we're meeting with Dante and Trish tomorrow morning . . . well, I guess technically later today, but anyway . . . Doujima and I are going to get started tonight on finding a way to break that spell on Robin. We may not be hackers like Michael, but there's all kinds of crazy stuff on the internet if you know where to look. So, um, I guess we'll see you at Harry's around eleven tomorrow--er, today. Whatever. So, um bye!"

"Message deleted. Next message, 1:56 am."

"Hmm . . . that was interesting," Dante voice intoned, clearing his throat. "I didn't figure you for the crazy greeting type." Despite his curiosity, Amon was beginning to wonder if he really wanted to hear this greeting at all. Maybe it would be better to just delete it and record a new one—and the sooner the better. **(4)** "Well, whatever . . . different strokes and all that. I'm kind of surprised you didn't answer the phone yourself since it was busy the first time I called--not that I mind. Talking to your voicemail is a lot less annoying than talking to the real thing, but I digress . . . Yurika said Robin's with you. Yeah, sorry about that. The babe snuck off almost before you were out of sight. I'm glad to hear she's okay though . . . I was worried." The sincerity in Dante's gruff voice revealed just how worried he was about Robin's safety, and Amon actually felt a modicum of respect for the demon hunter in response.

"Trish and I are going to catch a couple hours of sleep, and then we're going to get started tracking Beatrice down. We don't have much time left to stop her, and the sooner we get started the less time she has to cover her tracks. I think everyone's planning on meeting at Harry's for an early lunch around 11:00. Hopefully we'll have enough information by then to start formulating a plan." He paused and sighed softly. "I guess all I'm saying is that we're pulling an all-nighter on this one, so you can just relax. I've still got half the leadership here, which means I'm shouldering half the responsibility, so don't go and have an aneurism trying to take care of everything. Take the night off and get some rest. Tell Robin hello, and I guess I'll see you at Harry's."

"End of messages. To replay messages press--"

Amon leaned back on the couch and stared at his phone for a few long moments after hanging up. Frankly, he was shocked by how responsible everyone was acting--well, aside from the manipulation of his voice mail greeting, but that bit of irresponsibility was already a week old it seemed. He couldn't completely dismiss the fear at the back of his mind that Karasuma had shared more about the Director's sins than was absolutely necessary, but at the moment he was simply too grateful hearing that the night had not been completely wasted to care. His self-imposed guilt over his own hours of inactivity somewhat alleviated, he turned his attention to the next problem at hand.

Glaring at the phone as if it were at fault for what he knew he had to do, he punched in his half-brother's phone number reluctantly. He had never bothered to enter the number in his phone's memory, yet his own memory still had every digit easily stored away. It was a cruel irony that, no matter how much he might have liked to forget Nagira, his half-brother was just too useful to cut off ties with entirely--that's how his coolly logical mind saw it at least. Now that Robin had put him back in touch with his heart, Amon found it telling him he needed the connection with Nagira for more than practical reasons. Ignoring his overly talkative conscience and put the phone to his ear, he took comfort in the fact that it was still an ungodly hour of the morning and Nagira would likely be annoyed by the rude awakening.

The phone picked up on the second ring. "Well, well, well. If it isn't my wayward little brother," Nagira's deep voice purred, dripping with condescension.

"You're up early," Amon commented, equally startled by Nagira's unexpectedly coherent state of mind and the hoarseness of his own voice when he spoke. "Or perhaps you never went to bed."

Chuckling throatily, Nagira replied with the tell-tale drawl accompanying a drag on his cigarette, "I half suspect you didn't go to bed yet yourself judging by the condition of your voice, Amon, but who am I to talk? I have to admit I was rather surprised to see your name on my caller id though. Is the end of the world here already and I just didn't notice?"

"Actually," Amon replied sourly, "you might be surprised. But that's not why I called."

"So you just missed your big brother then. Maybe you need some of my sage wisdom and advice? You having troubles with your lady friend?"

"Even if my love life were any of your business, I certainly wouldn't ask for your advice about it. I'm calling about Simone."

Silence filled the connection between them for several long moments. The microphone on Nagira's phone buzzed softly as he exhaled a slow breath. "I see," Nagira said then, his voice very serious suddenly. "Last I heard she was doing fine. Have you changed your mind about wanting her to know about you?"

"Not at all," Amon answered quickly. "But I'm afraid she's in danger. Someone in Solomon knows about her, and he intends to use her against me."

"I see," Nagira said again, puffing on his cigarette again. Amon swore he could smell the smoke through the phone. "So, you want me to make her disappear, is that it?"

"You know the family who's raising her. I'm sure they want to keep her safe as much as I do."

"Shit, Amon. You sure know how to ask the impossible, don't you? Make a whole family disappear, just like that." Nagira's chair squeaked making Amon wince with the piercing sound. "I'll see what I can do. How quickly does this disappearing act need to occur?"

"As soon as possible." Amon caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and stiffened. His posture relaxed slowly when he saw Robin standing at the other end of the couch, her hair tangled around her heart-shaped face and her green eyes dark with exhaustion. Hugging herself, she shivered slightly in her oversized t-shirt, her pale legs folding up beneath her as she crawled up on the couch beside him.

Turning his attention back to the conversation, he heard his brother growl, "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," Amon replied evenly.

"Here I am going out on a limb for you, and you can barely stand to listen to me talk for five damn minutes," Nagira muttered. "I'll pull in some favors and get this taken care of for you, but by God, Amon, I'm not doing it for free this time. It's going to cost you, and I mean big time. You're going to take me out for dinner at that ridiculously expensive Italian place downtown, and we're going to spend an entire evening catching up and talking as if we actually care that we're family. You aren't backing out on me on this one, so you'd better mark it on your calendar. Got it?"

Amon sighed. "Yeah . . . I've got it."

"All right," Nagira said with satisfaction. "Then, I'll give you a call when everything's been taken care of. Good luck with that Armageddon thing."

"I'll do my best. And . . . Nagira . . ." Amon took a deep breath, beating his pride down with a baseball bat.

"Yes . . . ?" Nagira prompted in a sugary sweet voice, almost making Amon change his mind about what he had been about to say.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, little brudder." The tone of Nagira's voice was like a metaphysical noogie. "Now, stop worrying about your little girl and try to get at least a few hours of sleep, k? Love ya."

Amon listened to the dial tone for a few moments before shutting off his phone and turning to Robin. "Who's Nagira?" she asked, attempting to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"No one," he replied tersely, dropping his phone to the end table. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She shrugged. "It's okay. The bed felt cold."

Amon observed her with a raised eyebrow; she certainly got used to his presence in her bed quickly. "You should go back to sleep," he commented when she tried to hide a yawn behind her hand.

"It's nearly dawn," she argued, her teeth chattering as she shivered again. "I always wake up at this time."

She hugged herself tighter, her thin frame quaking as goose bumps rose on her skin, and Amon could no longer refuse the impulse to stop her shivers. Without thought, he found himself pulling her into his lap, and rubbing her shoulder with one hand as he simultaneously reached for a throw blanket on the back of the couch with the other. Still shaking, she huddled closer against his chest as he wrapped the blanket around them. Trying desperately to keep from thinking too much about their position, Amon continued rubbing her side and shoulders--careful to avoid the bruised areas on her back--until her tremors stopped completely.

"Amon," she murmured against his neck. He closed his eyes at the sensation of her breath against his skin. Her voice was filled with apprehension as she continued, "Did you stay with me tonight because you were afraid Beatrice would control me again?"

He considered her question for a few moments, uncertain how to answer. "That possibility did occur to me," he said finally, looking down at her again, "but I don't think Beatrice intends to use you in that way again. It seems she only needs access to your power to do what she wants, and she no longer needs control of you to have control of your power."

"Then why did you stay?" Her voice sounded so fragile he found himself instinctively holding her tighter.

He could already see he would be wasting his time making excuses or telling her half-truths at this point since she was just going to keep asking questions until she wormed the truth out of him. "I stayed because I wanted to, Robin."

One of her hands started tracing light patterns on his chest somewhere hidden beneath the layers of blanket enveloping them and he nearly crawled out of his own skin at the innocent caress. What was it about her touches that always made him react so strongly? "What is going on between us, Amon?" she asked quietly. "I need to know if I'm ever going to have the opportunity to find out, or if you're going to push me away again tomorrow."

Sighing deeply, Amon rested his head against the back of the couch. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you with my indecision, Robin. I'm still trying to figure things out . . . But I do know one thing, if it is any consolation to you at all: I'm tired of fighting whatever is happening between us, and I'm tired of second guessing myself every step of the way."

"Good," she suddenly, and he opened his eyes in surprise at her tone. He found her smiling at him from a few inches away. "I'm tired of it too."

"That doesn't mean--" he started to explain, afraid she had misunderstood him.

"I know," she interjected, her expression so considered and mature he forgot for a moment that she was only fifteen. "I don't expect everything to work itself out overnight. But there's something I've been wanting to do since yesterday."

"Oh?"

She had turned in his lap and was now facing him directly as she looked down at him. Amon felt his heart rate increase suddenly with a hint of excitement tempered by panic as she leaned closer. Why was it that he instantly felt like a hormone-flooded teenager whenever she took the initiative? Was it simply because he was used to being in control, or was it because this was Robin leaning ever closer to him, closing her vividly green eyes with a flutter of lashes and pressing her velvet-soft lips against his own? He decided he didn't care what the reason was as he tentatively deepened their kiss, allowing her to dictate the pace at which they moved until he could stand the teasing touch of her lips brushing against his own no longer and found he needed more. She eagerly surrendered control, though not completely, he discovered, as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and found her boldly following his lead. He smiled into the kiss as he felt her fighting him for dominance, remembering a time when he had first learned this gentle girl could be fiercely determined when she wanted to be. He had been surprised at that time, when she had manipulated him with such ease into helping her find out more about the death of kind stranger she barely knew, but he was far more surprised to see her determination coming out now, in such an intimate situation.

She wove her fingers into his hair and pressed her slim body against his own, and he knew he would have to stop himself soon if he was going to be able to stop them both from taking things any further tonight, Amon broke the kiss gently and looked into her half-lidded eyes with a quiet smile. "Funny," he murmured. "I've been wanting to do that too."

She smiled back at him with a mischievous smirk he had never seen her make before. It was almost enough to make him ignore his common sense and claim her lips again, but he somehow managed to avoid the temptation, simply pulling her closer to him again and turning off the light. "It may be dawn," he mumbled, "but we still have a few hours before we're supposed to meet everyone else at Harry's. I intend to get at least a little sleep before then." He could feel her gaze on him even in the darkness. "Do you promise to behave yourself?"

"I'll be good," she answered simply, snuggling up against him again, and he could almost feel her smile.

**I want an Amon cuddle-bunny too! I must just be missing my kitty. Rumour was my man replacement--lizalou and I often contemplated whom he looked like when he was in human form, because of course he could transform like that, you know. But seriously now, does anyone else find it ironical that Amon and Robin and making out on the very same couch where Touko and Amon made out in the first chapter of this very story? That couch gets around. You might call it a couch slut--and it isn't even a sexy couch or anything. Furniture whore. Anyone ever see the furniture porn website? I don't know if it's still around--a friend of mine shared it with me back in college and I have never been able to shake the imagery. Those "teen gay lawn chair sluts" are forever emblazoned in my memory. Anyway . . . I guess you'd have to see it to understand.**

**(1) I know Amon says "God doesn't forsake anyone" or something to that effect at the end of the series, but I like to think he developed that attitude over time because of Robin's influence. It certainly doesn't not seem in keeping with his character otherwise. Since I've strayed so far off the canon path, I thought I should clarify why I decided he's a little shaky in his belief in my story.**

**(2) In case anyone's interested, I did a little research and found that, despite the common perception that you should make certain someone stays awake when they have a concussion, apparently, it's not really an issue. In fact, it's good for them to rest. That's what the medical references I found said at least.**

**(3) Bad, Amon! Bad!!! Though he was only trying to be a gentleman . .. Yeah, right! He just wanted an opportunity to undress her since she got to undress him. Time for a debriefing!**

**(4) I know you all want to hear the greeting. No worries. You will get to hear (read) it eventually. But I have to be evil and keep you in suspense.**

**Okay, now to respond to everyone's reviews and get this posted before midnight so I can put up chapter 23 on the 23rd. Am I a dork or what? (Incidentally, I failed because the website was down--AGAIN!)**

**To omasuoniwabanshi: Cheetos . . . yummy. I'm about ready for a snack. I'm glad you're enjoying my fic as much as I enjoyed yours. Thank you so much for the generous compliments. Maybe I should have a vote just for curiosity's sake on exactly how Zaizen should die. I'm curious what everyone would come up with, though I've already heard some interesting ideas.**

**To lizalou42: Tortured characters? Coming right up. Would you like fries with that? Sorry, actually I don't have specific plans for torturing in the near future, though you know me . . . it's one of my favorite pastimes. I'm glad you liked Michael's reaction. I think it was about time he freaked out a bit. I know you're going to want to know how that scene went when Doujima and Sakaki patched him up. I agree that the dumpling dream wasn't all that long--I just didn't want to take away from the mood completely with a lot of craziness. But I definitely think there should be a dumpling dream part deux. Simone will not be a playable character in this game--er, story. But yes, the crazy parallels are disturbing but completely predictable when you're talking about me here.  
At least Exedore did not sing FFVII music. Scary. Lied Center techie lingo . . . did Inuki notice? I'm glad you noticed the cut across the cheek. I couldn't help myself. Yah about the good action sequence! It was so hard to do . . . writing action not come easily. "live to annoy another day" You know Cymon's going to have to use that line sometime--he was the one who whispered it in my ear. Hmm . . . I wonder if Doujima's any good at putting on bandages. I think Michael should look like a mummy. :)**

**To Plastraa: What a compliment--my author's notes are interesting too? And I write those almost without thought. But I'm glad they're enjoyable! I've found that my author's notes have almost become like blog entries in some respects, so much so that I'm actually considering starting my own blog. I understand your feelings about the end of the series, though I had to wait a while between watching the majority of the series and the last two episodes and eventually caved in and spoiled myself. It was easier that way though since it felt slightly less anti-climactic. I was already prepared. Reading fanfic is the best remedy though. I remember my sorrow after watching the end of Cowboy Bebop. Only reading fanfic about Spike living on got me through that one.**

**To Fall's Plight: Thank you! I hope I haven't inadvertently spoiled anything for you since you haven't finished the series yet. I suppose this chapter did end up being a bit fluffy, huh?**

**To Sakura Rain: I suppose it makes since that the last chapter was so well received since I'd been waiting through like five chapters to get to it. The wait allowed me to build it up. This chapter, on the other hand, was brand spankin' new--though I had vague ideas about the general plot. I like the imagery of Robin praying for Amon too. It's so her.**

**To Cutlass317: I'm not sure if you'll ever even get to read this response since I don't know if you read beyond chapter 3. I probably should have emailed you, but I didn't think about it until now. Doh! Anyway, thank you so much for your detailed reviews. They were very helpful. I appreciate the nitpicky grammar stuff, though I have to admit I've already noticed most of it and changed it in my master copy. I really need to re-post edited versions of the earlier chapters because the more I read them the more mistakes I find. If you did get through the rest of the story, I hope you found that the fight scene in Inferno 1 and 2 were far more fleshed out than the early fight scene. That's partially because I didn't want to get too involved in the fight early on, and partially because writing action takes a lot of work for me. As for Amon and Robin not talking about how things went, I always though there was an awful lot of not talking going on between them early in the series, and I guess I wanted to emphasize that. **

**To yukari youkai: Mmm, delicious. I wonder what flavor this chapter was? grins coyly I'll have to try the tequila thing. Thank you again for the compliments! No dreams in this chapter, but I'm sure I'll be writing another one soon--I can't seem to be able to stop myself. :)**

**To Seashah: Long live Monty Python. And now for something completely different. I'm glad people weren't totally adverse to the daughter thing. I thought it fit, but it was a little risky since it does add an element to Amon's character which was never seen in the show. As for his craft, I'm still considering. I have my favorite as well, but I've seen other fics that came to the same conclusion, and I don't want to simply jump to the obvious conclusion. But then again, if it feels right . . . I think I've always named my computers. Wait a second. What's my computer's name now? Shit. Well, the last computer I had was named Hal and that didn't work out so well. But my car's named Quetzacoatl.**

**To Miuixtli: Congratulations, you won the "guessed the entire plot of the next chapter" award. I got a little feverish myself. And I liked frappuccino so much I made Doujima drink it. Poor Sakaki.**

**To AVAAntares: Though Robin sees fatherly qualities in Amon, it's true that he isn't exactly daddy material--at least not as he is now. The "one facial expression" thing is so true though. Feel free to write the career day scene with Simone if you like. I'd like to read it. How would you like to kill Zaizen? I'm still interviewing for the position. Please write a paragraph and explain why you feel you are qualified. Please include at least two character references. I need to know how diabolical you are. :)**

**To PomegranateQueen: Nikita rocks. And why the hell did Warner Bros pull the second season DVD's from the shelves right before they came out?! I'm dying here! Ironically, I got my mom hooked on Nikita and she wants to see more, but I don't have any of it on tape. Hence why I need the DVD's! I understand about being sheltered--my parents watched Moonlighting when it was on and I had NO idea what was going on. Then I caught it on Bravo a few years ago and got hooked.**

**To KiReI AyUmI: Interesting idea for Zaizen's death. I'll have to think about that. But hey, vengeance ain't a bad thing. I can imagine some of the thoughts going through Amon's head.**

**To Jewel of Tasuki: Sorry for the wait!**

**To bravedragon: Thank you. Who knows if I'll ever get around to another fic since this one is like the energizer bunny: it keeps going and going and going. But thank you.**

**To AngelD: Thanks. I'm still curious about what parts seemed to drag on so I can make them less draggy. Is that a word?**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Ah, the difficult questions. Amon does have a lot of tough choices to make because of Zaizen-ass. **

**To Jcgamer: Yeah, I would totally freak if my computer were destroyed. The fire alarm went off in my apartment building once when I was at school and it was the end of the semester and all the projects were coming due. Needless to say, I had a lot of time and effort put into things which were on my computer. So, on the off chance the alarm was for a real fire, I unplugged my computer and took it with me outside. Yeah. I'm nuts. But my computer was safe.**

**To Tiger of the Wind1: Yeah, I kept the daughter thing under wraps a long time. I try to balance the incredible angst with humor--it gives it validity some how. Real life is like that. Sometimes you're teetering on the edge between crying and laughing. Sorry for the wait. Now give me my frappuccino and salty foods back! :)**

**To AnimeReviewr790: Thanks for the review!**

**To Dark Mistress Meli: I bad. I sorry. I hope this chapter was good enough to make up for the wait.**

**To Beautiful Witch Hunter Robin: Thanks!**

**To FieldofPaperFlowers: You're penname comes from an Evanescence song, doesn't it? Strangely, I actually have that song in my head right now . . . I'm working on an AMV for Witch Hunter Robin to Tourniquet by Evanescence. And if that's not where your penname came from, I'm sorry for going on about it. :)**

**To indirockqueen: Don't worry. As I told an earlier reviewer, Simone will not be a playable character in this game--damnit, did it again. She will not be a main character. But I'm glad you agree that it's interesting how this secret gives Amon's character another layer. I'm glad you appreciated the RvB quote too.**

**To demon: I hope you were able to find the chapter eventually. The website was being a butt when I posted the first time. **

**To Ann: I'm not sure if I'll be able to live up to all the hopes for brutal Zaizen killing! Hope I haven't painted myself into a corner there. I couldn't help but think of _honey, I shrunk the kids_ with the miniature Michael, but yes, dreams are often symbolic.**

**To Busoshwe: yeah, I learned my lesson about naming computers HAL with my last computer. Unfortunately, I didn't think to make note of the palindrome thing before 22. Or maybe I just hadn't had enough frap yet.**

**To Ellie: Poor Amon. It took me awhile to come up with the perfect blackmail as well, and I'm relieved that I'm not the only one who thinks it makes sense. No, unfortunately, Simone will not become a larger character in this fic, though it might be an interesting idea for a separate story. I'm reworking the earlier chapters of my original fic mostly, but I'll be sure to send it your way when I've got it put together again. **

**To Inuki: I think you might have spurred me on to post that last chapter sooner than I might have. Good for you! Good thoughts about how to defeat Zaizen. Talk of kill is important. There was a _little_ bit more skin in this chapter--hope you enjoyed.**


	24. Bad Girls Go to Hell Part 1

**Author's Note: Remember me? It's been a LOOOONNNG time, eh? Well, I'm not going to even bother making excuses, though I have to admit I enjoyed getting the threats of what you people would do if I didn't update soon. Unfortunately, I was just too distracted with other inspirations and lotsa other crap. And then after it had been so long I kind of got out of the flow of my story and was afraid that if I wrote another chapter it would really suck or something (and I don't know, this chapter may suck too . . .) but anydangway . . . I have a website now. Which I also haven't updated in awhile. Hee hee hee. I've been bad about that stuff lately. Anyway, you might go check it out with the link on my author bio page. **

**Oh, and something I have been meaning to coerce you all into doing . . . all you Nikita fans, or anyone else who has enjoyed this story and wants to do something that makes me happy, please go to amazon and search for La Femme Nikita the Complete Second Season. Then, ask to be notified when it comes out because supposedly amazon is going to let the publisher know how many people are interested. I'm hoping that maybe, just maybe, if enough people show interest, they'll get their heads out of their asses and release the second season despite the supposed setback they had with the license for some music in the show. It's frustrating!!!!! I need more Nikita!!!! **

**Okay, well I guess that's enough of that stuff. Moving on . . . Here's Chapter 24 finally. I borrowed a technique from Alias at the beginning, mostly because I felt that since I've already borrowed so much from so many other things, I might as well continue the trend. Its one of my favorite Alias tricks, mostly because it cracks me up every time they use it. It's such an old device. But, hey, it works.**

**Oh, and one last thing before we get started. Though I am grateful to the people who informed me the Master of Harry's was not in fact named "Harry," I have decided to disregard the advice and make a slight amendment to the Witch Hunter Robin universe. It's very slight, especially compared to other changes I have made, so I hope no one will be bothered by it. I just decided I like calling him Harry too much. ;)**

**Chapter 24 **

**Bad Girls Go to Hell: Part One**

****

Robin could feel the last reserves of her power being ripped away from her piece by precious piece, and she could do nothing to prevent it. _This isn't working!_ _She's just too strong. _For the first time since the struggle began, she forced herself to consider the possibility they might not be capable of stopping Beatrice. They had done everything they could, and it still hadn't been enough. Utter, heart-wrenching despair washed over her with that realization, and she felt herself slipping beneath the dark waters at the border of consciousness as her mind's protective mechanisms dislocated her from her pain before it became unbearable and drove her insane.

Amon shook her roughly as she began to succumb to the darkness washing over her like a tidal wave. "Robin," he growled in her ear, "Don't you dare give up yet." She felt a new wave of icy energy flow into her through his grip on her arm. The chill of it calmed her and eased the rawness left behind as Beatrice continued to roughly strip away her power. Slightly revived, Robin forced her eyes open and blinked rapidly as she attempted to focus on the boiling miasma of power forming at the lowest point in the valley before her. Beatrice stood triumphantly in front of it, laughing as the doorway at her feet continued to widen inexorably.

Robin felt another touch against her opposite arm, this one sending white-hot, electric jolts of energy though her body, instantly bringing her foggy thoughts into focus with its vivacity. "Just hold on, Robin," Dante murmured, his voice tight with strain. "Let _us_ do the work." Then, in a physical manifestation of his words, she felt both of the energies inside her--a cool howling wind and a bright buzzing spark--combining and reaching out to the force pulling the strings. The flow of power leaving her body slowed infinitesimally, and then reversed, her own energy seeping back into her. A chill wind sparking with electricity whipped around the three of them as the pull of energy turned directions, and she clung to the men on either side of her when the wind picked up speed, tearing her hair loose from its bindings and searing her skin with its raw power.

For the barest of moments, she allowed herself hope that they could still win. The roiling fissure of a doorway closed a fraction, and she nearly cried out in joy to see Beatrice's efforts failing. But then, her fragile gleam of hope tattered and crumbled before her as Beatrice focused her blood-red glowing eyes on them across the field and began resisting their pull of energy. "You're too late!" Beatrice screamed over the roar of the gale whipping around them. At that moment, Robin noticed a thick cloud of black smoke billowing through the opening to the underworld. Straining to see past the wind tearing at her, Robin just barely made out a dark shape scraping at the ground around the opening; it took her several long moments to recognize the shape as a claw.

"No!" Robin managed through gritted teeth, trying to get the attention of her companions. "He's breaking through already! She has the devil's full power on her side now."

"This isn't over yet," Amon murmured weakly. She glanced up at him to see his grey eyes looking at her with determination tinged by desperation, irises cloudy like the windy storm roiling around them. "She won't win."

"I don't know about you," Dante countered angrily, "but I'm running out of steam." Robin almost pulled away from his touch when she turned to look at him and saw that he no longer looked like himself; his skin black and glistening in the dim light, and his features harsher and more angular. He looked twisted somehow, and vaguely demonic as he glowed with a red aura. "We'd better come up with a new plan soon, or this is going to be over before we know it."

Just as Robin was struggling feverishly to think of a way out of their dilemma, she found herself distracted by renewed pain as the flow of energy finally shifted the other way and Beatrice took control over the tide of power again. "I can't last much longer," she gasped, feeling tears escape her eyes and cling to her face for only a moment before evaporating in the fierce wind--but she noticed that even the wind was starting to lose its strength. She squeezed her eyes shut and desperately tried to hold on to as much energy as she could, but her effort was useless.

What they needed now was a miracle.

------

**13.5 hours earlier**

_"Groove evening, viewers, and welcome to Doujima's swingin' report show!" Doujima announced above the sound of funky upbeat music filling the futuristic corridor around her. Marching with snappy strides in her knee high mango go-go boots, she continued to swing her hips in time with the rhythm, her hot pink pigtails bouncing back and forth around her face. An entourage of goofy dancers followed along behind her, mimicking her every move. "I'm here to investigate the totally uncool antics of the so-called demon queen herself, Beatrice Sparda." Static interrupted the broadcast momentarily, but the feed picked back up as Doujima entered a large kiwi colored space complete with lava lamp columns and a dance floor with flashing lights. "I'm entering the dance hall now--looks like one tricked out place to throw a party."_

_"Keep your focus Doujima!" Chief Kosaka yelled over her headset. "I just picked up the pirate broadcasting ship heading straight for your location."_

_"A'ight," Doujima replied, pausing as three figures materialized in the air before her. _

_"Don't let you're guard down, Doujima," Kosaka continued. "They're after a dance battle, no doubt. We can't let them steal away our viewer ship!"_

_"I'm on it," Doujima chirped in response, swinging her hips and arms in a complicated dance move. "Who are you, anyway?" she asked the handsome, silver haired man marching toward her._

_"The name is--" he began, only to be interrupted by the two men following behind him._

_"JAGUAR!" they belted out._

_"--Dante, actually," the man finished, elbowing one of the men behind him in the gut. "And I'm after this devilish story too, so you'd better cut out of here now, babe, before you fall victim to some of my dance magic!" He blew her a kiss after spinning around and gyrating his hips._

_"Oh no, Doujima!" Kosaka warned. "He's using his special dance powers to deceive you! Blast you, Jaguar!"_

_"I've got it," Doujima answered. "Just repeat whatever combo he throws at me. Piece of cake!"_

_"Right . . . down-down. Up. Up . . . chu!" Dante said, moving in sync with his words._

_"Right . . . down-down. Up. doing chu!" Doujima answered, shaking her shoulders in frustration when she missed the second "up" command. "Ah, man! I've got to get better at this."_

_"You can do it, Doujima!" Kosaka encouraged her._

_"Doujima! Wake up already!" a familiar voice cried suddenly from far away._

_"No, you can't!" Dante interrupted. "We have a hostage." A very polygonal Michael Jackson appeared in a cloud of smoke, a ring of pink and yellow stars spinning around his head as he was forced to dance against his will._

_"No!" Doujima screamed. "Not Space Michael!"_

_"Help me, Doujima!" Space Michael cried in between yelping "Woo!" in a high-pitched voice._

"Space Michael? What are you talking about? Doujima!" the other voice repeated, much closer this time. "Would you just wake up?!"

Doujima's eyes snapped open suddenly. "Sakaki?" she asked quietly when she saw his baffled expression inches from her own.

"I guess the caffeine only lasts so long, huh?" Sakaki laughed, leering at her in a disturbing manner. The details of the STN-J came slowly into focus around and she nearly yelped in surprise when she saw the real Chief Kosaka glaring at her from his office. "So, what was all that talk about Space Michael? You're lucky Michael's asleep right now, or he might have gotten the wrong idea." Then, with a mischievous smirk, he added coyly, "Hey, you weren't having a dream about a video game were you, by chance?"

"Yeah right," Doujima snapped. "Only otakus have dreams about video games." Pushing herself to her feet with the help of a nearby desk, she groaned when she saw the clock on the wall. "I guess it's time to go, huh?"

"Yup!" Sakaki replied entirely too cheerfully.

"Go where?" Kosaka demanded. "You're not skipping out early today, Doujima.

"We're just meeting Amon and the others at Harry's for lunch," Sakaki assured him. "It's work related."

"It better be," Kosaka grumbled as he slumped down in his chair. "I swear," he continued in a loud voice to Hattori, knowing Doujima and Sakaki could still hear him and expecting them to listen. "I don't know what's going on around here today. First, over half the employees fail to show up, including Director Zaizen, then they all want to go out for lunch and call it work! I'm going to have to remind them of exactly what work really is."

"Need to get to Harry's soon," Doujima mumbled as she gathered up her purse and the stack of research they had done during the entirely too short night, successfully blocking out the rest of the Chief's rant. "Need more coffee . . ."

------

"Robin. It's time to go."

Robin blinked several times into the bright sunlight flooding though the window above her, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. She had discovered during the brief period of time she had been waiting for Amon to shower and change clothes that the couch in his apartment was above average in comfort and made remaining conscious difficult when one was exhausted. Unfortunately, regaining any level of alertness after such a brief nap was far more difficult than the effort required to let one's eyes drift closed in the first place. In fact, she found that she felt even more exhausted than she had when she first gave in to her body's wishes and allowed the soft couch to lull her into a quiet, dreamless sleep.

Now, she found herself resting her chin on the back of the couch and staring out the window as she forced her eyes open as wide as they would go. Branches lined with buds on the verge of opening swayed outside the window in a breeze, and Robin struggled to focus on them, trying in vain to wake up her sluggish senses.

She could feel Amon's presence at her back. His gaze was settled on the back of her head, and she felt its pressure as surely as she felt the faint, ephemeral tug in her chest toward something in the distance. The pull was so slight it was not so much of a beckoning as the awareness of a connection; there was no force involved. It was like having a string tied to her wrist. She knew the other end of the string was tied to Beatrice, wherever she was, connecting them across the distance, but though she was aware of the "string" itself, it was still slack.

"Is something wrong?" Amon asked in a strictly professional tone, as if he could rewind time and simply recreate the space there had been between the two of them a week ago. He attempted to do so at least, but he no longer seemed completely capable of creating the false distance between them. The difference was subtle, but she could hear the slightest bit of warmth in his voice, the tiniest crack in his cold exterior. "Robin?" he inquired when she failed to answer, his tone still firm, but even warmer than it had been before and colored with concern.

She smiled slightly and turned back to face him, ignoring the way the room swam around her as if her senses were only working at half-speed and couldn't keep up. His hair was still damp and hugged his neck and collar in slick tendrils, but he looked refreshed from the shower. She was pleased to find his wardrobe did not consist entirely of outfits identical to the one he usually wore, though the difference in his current outfit was slight. It maintained the monochromatic theme of his usual clothing, but the black shirt and slacks both hugged his lithe figure in a way his customary attire did not. He wore a black suit jacket to complete the all black ensemble, but she couldn't say she minded the color; she usually wore black herself, after all.

"I'm fine," she murmured finally in response to his question, hoping he would accept her half-truth and simply let the matter drop.

The slight narrowing of his eyes and tug of a frown at the corners of his mouth said otherwise. "We don't have time for games, Robin. Something's obviously bothering you, and I need to know what it is. You didn't tell me about the crystal Beatrice gave you, and it turned out to be important. I need to know now if you're holding anything else back."

"It's nothing important," she sighed, her gaze drifting back to the window. "I'm just uneasy about meeting with everyone after what happened last night."

Silence filled the room for a few long moments as he considered her answer. "Because you're afraid they'll blame you?"

"Because I'm afraid they won't trust me."

Amon sighed quietly in what sounded like relief. "I don't think you need to even worry about that," he commented matter of factly. "They will trust you." The metallic jangle as he scooped up his keys drew Robin's attention; he was already heading for the door and evidently expected her to follow.

"How can you be so sure?" She watched him uncertainly as he paused a few feet from the door to turn back to face her.

"Because they will see that I trust you, and considering how little I trust anyone, they will know you can still be trusted." Hearing him say the words out loud turned out to be all the assurance she really needed, since she immediately felt the dread weighing on her shoulders ease. If Amon, who was skeptical of everyone and everything, still trusted her, then she had nothing to worry about. Even if the others had doubts, they would not question's Amon's judgment in the matter.

"Are you coming?" he prompted after her long hesitation. Her eyes focused on him standing in the doorway waiting for her, his head cocked slightly and an eyebrow raised in impatience.

Reaching for her coat, she hurried to follow him and waited as he locked the door, watching him with an unfocused gaze as she huddled in her coat, her hands buried in its pockets. He turned to pass her and lead the way down the hall, but paused beside her first, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "It will be okay," he murmured, and she looked up at him in surprise.

Then he was gone, striding down the hall and leaving her to follow along behind him, watching his black clad back in amazement, still unable to believe how much he had changed.

------

"No! Master Harry, don't do it!" Sakaki pleaded, tugging on the older man's towel draped arm and looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sakaki, but she did expressly order another triple espresso mocha cappuccino, and I want my customers to be happy--"

"And that would make me very, very, very happy, Master Harry, yes it would," Doujima trilled so quickly that Sakaki was surprised she didn't break the sound barrier. "Oh yes, it definitely, definitely would. Did I say it would? Because it would." Though she was sitting in a chair, she bobbed her head so much and gestured so wildly that she gave the impression she was bouncing off the walls like a cheap rubber ball.

Turning to the Master once again, Sakaki begged, wishing he had the ability to summon tears to his eyes at will (but no, that would require at least another level in persuasion and manipulation before he'd learn that skill) "Please. It's for the good of the universe." As he watched the Master's thoughtful expression in expectation, Sakaki distracted himself by trying to remember the man's real name. Sakaki knew he had one after all and that it was not in fact "Harry," yet despite the fact that "Harry" was not his real name, everyone continued to address him and think of him by that name. Luckily, the Master didn't seem to mind.

Finally, Master Harry sighed with a knowing smile, "Well, if it's for the good of the universe . . ."

"That's right," Sakaki agreed quickly, ignoring Doujima as her face twisted up into a pout and she glared at each of them in turn. "Trust me," he assured her when her glare settled on him for several long moments, "it's for your own good."

"I thought it was for the good of the universe," she snapped back, squinting at him through slitted eyes.

"How about some ice cream, Miss Doujima?" Harry intervened calmly.

"At this time of morning?" Sakaki yelped, feeling his stomach turning at the very thought of eating the fluffy chilled concoction so early in the day. "That's sick!"

"I would love some ice cream, yes I would, Master Harry!" Doujima cried after whacking Sakaki on the arm with her purse. "Do you have any mocha almond espresso flavor?"

Sakaki buried his face in his palms despairingly, shaking his head in horror as the congenial bartender replied, "Certainly, Miss Doujima."

"Master, can I speak with you for a moment?" Karasuma asked. Sakaki lowered his hands enough to peek across the table at his partner as Master Harry leaned toward her, helping her dig through a small bag emblazoned with a prescription drug logo. She whispered something in his ear and slipped a small white pill into his hand. Moments later he disappeared through the doorway.

"What was that about?" Sakaki murmured.

Karasuma glanced at Doujima who was now occupied by examining the frothy leavings of cappuccino in her coffee cup. Then, apparently dismissing her, Karasuma leaned closer to Sakaki and whispered, "I asked him to give her sugarfree ice cream and slip some of the Valium I got from the hospital into the bowl."

Dante, lounging in the chair next to Sakaki, raised a silver eyebrow. "That could create rather a bad reaction with all the caffeine in her system, don't you think?"

Sakaki shrugged. "If you ask me, she's already having a bad reaction. I mean, just look at her." He gestured to Doujima as she began making engine noises and flying her spoon through the air. "I didn't know it was possible to get drunk on caffeine, but we have to get her calmed down before Amon shows up."

"Yeah," Dante agreed with a smirk, "I don't think Mr. Doom-and-Gloom has much patience for altered states of mind."

"I don't know . . ." Trish mused. "Control freaks often have to put themselves into an altered state of mind before they can let go. Maybe he's familiar with such things."

"It's true that Obsessive Compulsives often have problems with addictions," Sakaki agreed.

"So, what are we saying here?" Dante asked, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "You think Rambo has an addiction to a mind altering drug?"

"Perhaps," Trish answered with a shrug as Sakaki said, "You never know."

"Well, if that's the case," Dante smirked, "he certainly doesn't use it enough. He might be a lot easier to deal with if he did. At the very least he could afford to be addicted to fiber. A little more fiber in his diet would do him good, I think."

"This conversation is ridiculous," Karasuma muttered, shaking her head.

"I agree," stated a very familiar, very annoyed voice.

Sakaki spun around to see Amon standing just inside the doorway with Robin hovering close by his side. "Um, ah, we--" Sakaki sputtered, glancing at Dante to see the demon hunter still smirking quietly. In fact, Dante seemed completely unruffled by Amon's sudden appearance--almost as if he had been aware of it all along, which would mean that he made his comments knowing Amon was listening. Sakaki looked at the half-demon with renewed respect in his eyes; it would take a lifetime of leveling up before he could reach the level of cool Dante had attained.

Amon's frigid gaze swept over the room, settling at last on Dante. "I'm glad to see everyone being so productive and staying so focused on the tasks at hand."

"Ice cream!" Doujima squealed suddenly when Master Harry appeared in the doorway with her treat, effectively pulling the emergency stop lever and halting Amon's guilt trip. She then drew all attention to her completely as she began devouring the ice cream in a very unladylike fashion. Moments later, Doujima's bowl was empty and she was groaning, pressing her fingertips against her temples. "Ungh," she moaned. "Freeze . . . brain . . ." Harry appropriated the empty bowl from her before winking slyly at Karasuma and exiting the room.

"Did you hear that?" Sakaki whispered to Karasuma. "She was speaking slowly."

"The valium couldn't have taken effect that quickly," she whispered back.

Then, as if to prove Karasuma's statement, Doujima's head popped up suddenly, and her eyes focused on Robin. "Robin!" she chirped. "I'm so glad you're here because you won't believe it, but I found a way to stop Beatrice! Really! Oh, and I was the one who found it, not Sakaki, so don't listen to him because he'll tell you he found it himself, but he's just trying to take credit." Her breakneck speed slowed on the last few syllables and her eyelids dropped slightly. "Hmm . . . Amon? Since when did you have a twin brother?"

"What are you talking about?" Amon demanded, glaring darkly at her.

"Woah . . . now there's definitely three of you."

Dante shook his head slowly, "I told you that mixing substances could create a bad reaction."

"She'll be fine," Karasuma answered firmly, though not without a touch of worry in her eyes.

"We don't have time for this," Amon interrupted, taking one of the empty seats at the table. Robin sat down slowly beside him, and Sakaki couldn't be sure, but he thought she hovering rather close by Amon's side--closer at least than anyone normally got to him. Turning to Dante, Amon asked, "Have we located Beatrice yet?"

"She's rented a cabin at a lake not too far from here," Dante answered simply. "The location wasn't too hard to find. Her victory last night made her a little overconfident, it seems."

"Let's hope that's what it is, and not another trick."

Dante met Amon's glare with a slow smile. "Well, if Doujima's research is correct, we shouldn't have any trouble knowing whether its a trick or not. Apparently, Robin should be able to sense Beatrice's presence when she's nearby."

"Which means Beatrice will be able to sense her as well," Amon stated with a frown.

"But, that's why we're going to use her tactics against her!" Doujima affirmed, her eyes focused on the empty space somewhere to the right of Amon.

"And how are we going to do that?" Robin asked quietly,

"By using the same spell she used on you!" Doujima replied happily.

"What?" Amon asked flatly.

Karasuma sighed. "Sakaki, maybe you should take over here. I don't think Doujima's coherent enough to explain, and the rest of us only have a vague understanding of what you found in the first place."

"Hey!" Doujima cried, but fell silent when Amon glared at her with warning in his dark eyes. Considering she seemed to be seeing three of him, the glare was more than enough to mollify her.

"Okay . . ." Sakaki said finally, pulling out the stack of papers they had brought with them. "So . . . we didn't have any luck finding a way to undo what Beatrice did to you, Robin, but we did find out how to repeat it. Our spell is a little different, but it works the same way. This particular spell of binding requires three people to work--like a trinity, you know?" Robin frowned as if she were offended by his choice of words, but he elaborated quickly, "It's like in Kingdom Hearts; there are these places where Goofy, Donald and Sora have to combine their powers and stomp really hard or knock something over to get to like a hard to reach box or to open a locked door."

"You lost me there," Dante stated, shaking his head.

"_Who's _more coherent?" Doujima muttered mockingly under her breath.

"How do these binding spells work exactly?" Robin asked, her brows drawn together in worry.

"Well," Sakaki replied slowly, glancing down at his papers to verify his answer, "the spell binds one person's power to another person's power, but the binding isn't just a one way street. In other words, Beatrice can draw energy from you, but you could also potentially take energy from Beatrice. The problem is, that alone, you probably don't have enough power to overcome her control of the connection. But, if we use the spell of binding we found to connect two other people to you, then you will have three times the power."

"So, it's like a game of supernatural tug-of-war?" Dante laughed softly. "The more people Robin has on her team, the easier it is to win?"

"Basically," Sakaki answered with a shrug.

"Why only two people?" Trish inquired thoughtfully. "Wouldn't it make sense to connect all of us to Robin?"

"The spell only allows for a connection of three people total."

"Then we could only connect one other person since Beatrice is already connected." Amon concluded.

"Actually, the two connections will be separate, so it shouldn't work that way. Beatrice won't be able to reach the other two people connected to Robin. How did Michael describe it earlier?" Sakaki shook his head, trying to remember what words the hacker had used. "He said it worked like a computer network. Robin is the router connected to the internet--otherwise known as Beatrice--and the other two people will be like other computers on Robin's network. She is the firewall between them and Beatrice." Sakaki glanced around the room only to find a confused expression on everyone's face but Amon's.

"If that analogy is accurate, then Beatrice could potentially still find a way past Robin if she knew what she was looking for," Amon mused. "I don't see how it would be an advantage to give her three people to use instead of just one."

"Hopefully she _won't _know what she's looking for until it's too late," Dante answered. "And somehow I think this is the last thing she would expect us to do. That is, unless you have a better idea, Rambo."

"Regardless, I still don't understand why you can only connect two people," Trish repeated, ignoring the glaring match between Amon and Dante.

"Because three is a number of power," Robin replied before Sakaki could say a word. "The spell Sakaki and Doujima found--"

"Just me, remember?" Doujima reminded. "I'm the one who found it."

"--must use the number three as part of it's source of power," Robin persevered. "It is a spell used to create a triumvirate."

"How did you know that?" Sakaki asked uncertainly. "Did Beatrice tell you?"

Robin's green eyes flashed with hurt. "No," she answered quietly. "It's a common element in spells. Besides, I don't remember much of anything from the moment Beatrice began controlling me until the orbo broke the connection. Not that I could have done anything about it even if I had been aware . . ."

"No one's blaming you, babe," Dante reassured her, with a disapproving glance at Sakaki.

Sakaki suddenly regretted his thoughtlessness. If it were possible to level down in the role-playing game of life, it seemed like he had just done exactly that. Negative five points in Sensitivity. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"It's okay," Robin replied softly, her gaze dropping to her hands clasped on the edge of the table.

"Anyway," Dante said to get the discussion started again, "Since only two of us can connect our power to Robin's, it makes sense that those of us with the strongest powers be the ones to do it. So . . . I guess that means Trish and I would be the obvious choices."

"No," Amon argued evenly. "I will be one of the two people."

"Actually," Sakaki said reluctantly, trying not to waver under Amon's glare, "in order for the spell to work, the people can't just be Seeds. Their power must be active."

Amon's gaze settled on him for several long moments before the older man grasped the orbo pendant hanging around his neck and yanked on it hard enough to snap the cord. Placing the freed pendant calmly on the table, he stated, "I don't see the problem."

"But, Amon," Karasuma said slowly, "I've never seen you use your powers before. How do you know--"

"I know." Amon glared at her with a no-argument expression for several long moments. "What will it take to prepare this spell?" he continued finally, returning his gaze to Sakaki

"Everything's prepared," Sakaki answered quickly. "Doujima and I went shopping for all the supplies before we picked up Karasuma and came here. All we need a dark, quiet place where we won't be disturbed."

"I'm sure Master Harry will let us use this room for a little longer," Karasuma commented. "And we could cover the windows to make it darker."

"Then let's get started," Amon stated gravely. "I'll go speak with Master Harry." Without another word, he had risen to his feet and strode purposefully out of the room, his broken orbo pendant lying forsaken on the table behind him.

"I'm telling you," Dante muttered under his breath, "Bran Flakes and Shredded Whole Wheat. They could work wonders."

------

"C'mon, li'l brother. Pick up the damn phone," Nagira sighed into his cell phone, exhaling another long puff of cancerous smoke as he leaned back in his chair. Despite Nagira's direct order, Amon failed to answer, and after another irritating ring his voice mail finally picked up.

At least that was what Nagira expected to hear. He wasn't so sure that was what he was actually hearing when the lively giggles of what sounded like a multitude of hysterical chipmunks exploded in his ear. "What the hell?" he muttered, dropping his feet from the corner of his desk to the ground and straightening in his chair. Had he dialed the wrong number?

But then Amon's voice said clearly and calmly amidst the giggles, "You've reached Amon's voice mail. I'm on a mission for the cactuar village right now, so I can't answer your call." Though the voice was unmistakably Amon's, it didn't flow quite right, pausing unnecessarily at odd places; Nagira concluded it must have been synthesized. He found himself grinning suddenly. Amon would be so pissed when he found out that his voice mail had been tampered with. "But I'll be sure to get back to you," the recording continued, "as soon as I get this high potion out of my ass. So, please, leave a message after Ifrit's grunt." A strange animalistic sound followed his words, and then, blessed silence.

Nagira paused as he tried to reorganize his shattered train of thought. "Uh . . . right. So . . ." he chuckled, "I'm glad you finally figured up what was up your ass all this time, Amon, though I don't have a clue what a 'hi potion' is. Anyway, I was just calling to let you know it's done--and even sooner than you asked, so I don't want to hear any whinin'. Now, I _will_ be waiting for a call back from you to discuss our dinner arrangements, and you can't use that Armageddon excuse forever, so don't even think about pretending this voice mail somehow disappeared into the vast nothingness of electronica. Unless the world somehow implodes before the end of the day, I will be expecting to hear from you very soon. Tootles."

Feeling vaguely satisfied, Nagira once again leaned back in his chair and snuffed his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk with a smile. He found the mere thought of Amon's face when he listened to his new voice mail greeting to be far more cathartic than tobacco could ever be.

**Heh, heh, heh. So there it is. I even worked in the voice mail thing at the end. It was a little disjointed and lacking in a lot of action, but I have to work myself back into the swing of things a little bit at a time, you know? The parody to seriousness ratio was a little tipped toward the parody side, which I hope didn't bother anyone, but I've been in serious need of silliness and laughter lately because work's been very stressful. The angst will pick up again soon, I'm sure. It always does . . .**

**I don't know if any of you are fans of Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter, but you might find my idea of a triumvirate similar to the one Laurell K. Hamilton uses in those books. Next chapter we will explore a little more of the specifics of this spell, and I ask you to just imagine the possibilities as Doujima explains the steps required to make the spell work and fudges a little on the specifics. Am I the only one who can see Doujima having a little bit of fun with this?**

**I hope no one's too irritated by my Alias inspired trick of showing the climax of the action and then skipping backward. I'm a bitch, I know. But I'll try to update more often!!! :)**

**Oh my . . . I have a LOT of reviews to reply to. I'll have to be brief if I'm going to get this updated tonight, so I apologize!**

**To bratinella: Thanks for the review! Yes, Amon and Robin will likely be together in the end. Amon's child doesn't even know he exists, so her existence shouldn't be too much of an issue as far as that goes. Amon's angst is the biggest issue standing in their way. Well, aside from the "goin' to jail" thing . . . If only Robin were older . . . :)**

**To inu-kag-4evr: Thanks! **

**To Sweetbox: Thank you! I little bits more Nagira for you. And yeah, see my response to bratinella to alleviate your worries about the daughter.**

**To Ryuu no Taiyo: Ah the threats. I enjoyed. It does help a bit actually. I've got a guilt complex, I'll admit it. **

**To Jadewitch: Thank you for the compliment.**

**To Daedreamer: Thanks! Glad you don't mind my rambling. **

**To GoWaitInTheCar: I'm telling you. There was, at least at one time, a website for furniture porn. It exists. I enjoy the idea of inanimate objects being personified. And yes, I am a dork. Oh, and thanks for the DMC info. I'm really excited for the next game!**

**To crystal rose2: I fear the crossover element has not been a plus for my story, and I totally understand why. I'm just glad people have been willing to give it a try despite that deterrent. I appreciate your compliments too! Hopefully I'm over my dry spell in inspiration now.**

**To Aliora: Thanks! I'm relieved to hear my plot is clever since I feel it is often one of my weak points. I was rather happy with the daughter twist though . . . it took me awhile to come up with something sufficiently messed up to explain why Amon listens to Zaizen. Luckily, I came up with it early enough to throw some hints in. Lately, my plotbunnies haven't been so much the problem as my motivation and energy. Even when I'm motivated lately, I find I'm too tired to focus when I sit down to write. I hope this chapter lives up at least mostly to the other ones. **

**To AVAAntares: You're hired. You can torture Zaizen any day. And of course fictional characters work as references! They're real enough to us. I'm interested in your "original manga." Is this written only, or have you been drawing it too? **

**To XtinethePirate: Thank you so much! There will be more hot AxR action, I promise. I just have to work back into it. I am so flattered to hear that my versions of all the characters have taken on a life of their own in your mind and I'm really sorry I've taken so long to update. Oh, and about Fruits Basket … I've recently become obsessed with it all over again since I started collecting the graphic novels (I had them all in Japanese, but since I don't read the language I didn't REALLY know what was going on). I am seriously considering writing a Furuba fiction. But I don't want to neglect this fic anymore by starting a new one and getting distracted. Anyway, I really enjoyed reading all your reviews. They were very detailed and I was so impressed that you actually wrote a review for almost every chapter. Most people who read stories after multiple chapters have been published just write one review for the last chapter because they can't wait (this probably includes me), but it's really nice getting feedback on all the chapters. I applaud you!**

**To Lucifer's Garden: It's not wrong at all. Thank you so much. But I've had a helluva time avoiding those rabid penguins. Oh, and the imagery you provoked with the "hot naked" couple was quite vivid. Unfortunately, I think I'll be staying away from the shonen-ai in this particular fic. But I still can't help but think about that image and say, "so pretty!"**

**To minda: Thanks!**

**To Jcgamer: I'm so sorry to hear about your loss after the hurricane! I hope everything's much better for you by now.**

**To sailorsaturn12345: Thanks! Yes, Robin does know Nagira in the series, but since my story takes place before that point in the series, she does not know him in my story. **

**To Moonbeam: Video games rock. I didn't get obsessed until later in life than most people, but I think I'll probably always be a video game addict. I'll be a little old lady playing Mario 3000 and having a blast. Random, huh?**

**To Tsukinoko1: I was rather proud of the second sentence you quoted, I have to admit. The imagery is very intense.**

**To Yukari Youkai: Thanks for the sympathy about my cat. It sucks losing a pet. I'm much better with it now, though I would love a new kitty. Ah well, I'll have to wait a little bit longer . . .**

**To omasuoniwabanshi: Nagira will show up again I've decided. Now that I've brought him in, I can't just leave him out for the rest. Thanks for the condolences for Rumour as well. **

**To Firebird: Thank you! I like your idea for a future crossover. If you're still inspired you should write it and send it too me. Cross inspiration is always fun.**

**To AnimeReviewer790: Thanks for the sympathy for Rumour and thanks for the encouragement.**

**To miuixtli: Thanks! **

**To BlissfullyInsane01: Thanks!**

**To AngelD: I understand**

**To HuNtMeAmOn: The teasing will never end!!!! BWAHAHAHA. No, I'll be nice someday. Just not today.**

**To Inuki: It's been a long time, girl. What have you been up to? I want to hear from you!**

**To Tiger of the Wind1: Yes, I know the chapter title is a song. This chapter is too actually. I've been doing that a lot lately. Ah well, song titles make good chapter titles, I suppose. Don't worry, everyone will make it out of the final battle alive . . . I think. Hee hee hee**

**To lizalou42: Whew, I'm getting tired. This is a lot of reviews. Now you know what the voice mail greeting is. And knowing's half the battle. I suppose you've already read/heard most of this chapter, but not the last part. Hah. And omigod. I just realize I STILL have your Nikita tapes. Doh!! Sorry for no Michael in this chapter. Does Space Michael count? shields self from mallet blow **

**To Ann: Thanks! I hope you enjoyed the continuation of Doujima caffeine craze as well as the cell phone message. And thanks for the condolences about my cat. **

**To busoshwe: I've so done the nearly hitting your head on a fan when waking up in the middle of the night thing. Okay, so I actually did hit my head. And it went "dugagagaga." It was a ceiling fan and I was in a bunk bed. Anyway . . . thanks for the sympathy about Rumour. **

**To Hunter-Robin: Hope you enjoyed the voicemail greeting and thanks for the sympathy.**

**To PomegranateQueen: Thanks for the condolences and I'm glad you're sharing WHR with your mom. It's always fun to be able to share things like that with your parents. It narrows the generation gap a bit.**

**To Beautiful Witch Hunter Robin: Thanks for the hug! :) Sorry for the wait.**

**To bravedragon: Thanks!**

**To Seashah: Thank you! Yeah, Amon and Nagira's sibling relationship is really crewed up. Thanks for the sympathy.**

**To Sakura Rain: Thanks! It's always good to have a special moment with your pet before the end. It makes it a little bit easier at least.**

**To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: I totally understand. Look how long it's been since I've updated! Time is definitely in short supply. **

**WHEW! Last one . . . I apologize if I missed anyone. Shit. Now my chapter's really freakin' long. Oh well. **


	25. Interlude: Triumvirate

**Author's Note: Guess what! It hasn't been four months since my last update! It's been a little while, but not four months! The holidays have made writing a little difficult with all the distractions the season provides, but I've been able to scrap another chapter together. These later chapters don't flow as nicely as I'd like, partially because of the gaps between the postings and the writings, and partially because my super-overwhelming obsession with WHR has waned a bit. Don't get me wrong—I still love the series, but I've become super obsessed with a few new things too, and that takes away from it somewhat. But, I did promise I will finish this story, and I keep my promises if I can, so don't worry. **

**SMALL WARNING (in big letters): Yeah, remember how this story is sort of AU and stuff? Yeah, I hope nobody minds because it may be getting more off track by the end of the chapter. I was starting to run dry with what I had as I get closer to the conclusion, and though this story will have an end, I don't want to stop writing. So, I'm sowing the seeds for a sequel story here before this one's over. You can blame Alias, if you want to. (Despite its more cheesy, overdone scenes, many of the ideas in Alias are very interesting, and the plot twists certainly keep you hooked. I have been inspired.)**

**Also, I wanted to thank all of those who have expressed support due to an overly negative review I received. I have addressed Unamused in the same way I reply to all of my reviewers (at the bottom of my post); so if you can't wait to see what I had to say about it, skip to the bottom. Otherwise, please enjoy the chapter. I have no intention of making a bigger deal about this review than is necessary. It had nothing to do with my delay in posting, btw, and it did not discourage me from writing. Real life distractions have been fully to blame in that area . . . (speaking of real world stuff, this chapter would have been posted yesterday if a certain little ice storm hadn't knocked out my power)**

**Chapter 25**

**Interlude: Triumvirate**

"We're here." The words were more sigh than statement, and the melancholy they implied by their tone drew the attention of sleepy grey eyes.

"Why are we here, mommy?" a small voice inquired, and the mother looked down at the girl in the car seat with a forced smile of encouragement.

Ruffling the girl's thick, dark hair tenderly as she liberated her from the safety restraint, the mother replied, "You know why, Simone: because daddy has a new job. That's why we had to move."

Simone's expressive grey eyes dropped their focus to her feet, one of which was kicking lightly against the seat while the other hung limply beneath a plaster cast. "But, I don't want to move," she whispered so softly her words could barely be heard.

"I know, Simone, but sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do." Though she found she really wanted to cry as she looked into her adopted daughter's watery eyes, she painted the cheeriest, most encouraging smile she could on her face, and asked, "Do you want to see your new room?"

"I guess so," the girl replied without enthusiasm.

The mother glanced up at her husband who was watching them both with a vacant look, his arms filled with an overflowing box of kitchen utensils. She smiled at him, raising her eyebrows at his despondent expression, and he quickly forced a smile in response. "It looks like Mr. Nagira found us a nice place this time, Carin," he managed. "It's not quite as big as our place in Tokyo, but it's a little newer."

Carin followed along behind her husband, toting Simone along with her. "Mr. Nagira is a good man. Do you like Mr. Nagira, Simone?" she asked, attempting to distract the dejected girl in her arms.

Simone's face instantly lit up. "Big pimpin'!" she cried in pure joy.

Carin found herself at a momentary loss for words. "What did you just say?" She wasn't sure whether to be angry, outraged or relieved; while she was comforted by Simone's change in mood, she couldn't help but feel shocked by the words that had just come out of the young girl's mouth.

Her husband belatedly provided the explanation she needed. "Mr. Nagira may be a good man, but he's not the best babysitter; she picked up more inappropriate language from those two hours than I would have thought possible."

"Still, it was nice of him to look after her while we packed," Carin reminded, speaking as much to herself as to him. Stepping out of her shoes as she followed her husband into their new home, she crossed the empty living room and turned a slow circle, inspecting the small space. "It isn't as big," she agreed, "but it will do." Her voice echoed in the unfinished room, and for a moment she was struck by the hollow sadness in that sound. "Oh, and look, Simone," she continued as she wandered down an adjacent hallway, "here's your new room!" Simone clung to her mother as she surveyed the small, rose-colored space. "Look! There are teddy bears on the wall." Looking at the teddy bear border her mother had pointed to, Simone allowed a small smile to interrupt her sullen expression.

"Carin, could you give me a hand with this?" her husband called from the other room.

"I'll be right there," Carin replied. Placing her daughter down in a miniature rocking chair sitting next to a large box full of toys, she said, "See, Simone? Daddy already brought in your favorite chair and some of your toys. Can you be a good girl and wait here while mommy and daddy finish bringing in the boxes?"

Simone nodded silently and watched her mother exit the room. Listening to her parents continue moving boxes and furniture, Simone sat quietly in her chair, looking at her feet. She didn't even glance at her toys. Her small face solemn, she simply sat in the foreign space which was to be her new bedroom, and cried. Tears leaked out of glassy grey eyes, slipping down over round cheeks. She scrubbed at them absently with the back of a hand.

Moments later, a breeze stirred in the room, ruffling Simone's hair and fluttering the pages of an upturned book in the box of toys. Simone closed her eyes as the wind caressed her face, squeezing out a few more small tears in the process, but the breeze dried them before they could fall from her cheeks. The breeze had no discernable source, the windows being tightly shut and the vents closed. Several moments later, when Simone's tears were gone, the breeze disappeared as quickly as it had arisen, leaving the room silent and still.

Consoled by her friend, the wind, Simone reached for a toy at the top of the box.

-------

"Hey, Robin, could you give me a hand here?" Doujima asked when she had the last candle in place.

Dante had stopped counting somewhere around nineteen, but he guessed there were close to thirty candles encircling them. It only took Robin a few seconds to light all of them, each flame precisely summoned to a wick without a spark out of place. He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, impressed by her precision. She smiled at him sweetly when she noticed his expression, and Dante found himself returning the smile for no apparent reason, uncertain why he had been so impressed by such a simple action. Why had he even considered she would be less than adept at her craft?

Amon cleared his throat rather loudly, glancing between the two of them in annoyance before turning his attention to Doujima. "Are we ready to start, then?" He surveyed the ring of light around them with an expression of wariness, as if he suspected even the candles of some kind of dark treachery.

"Just about," Doujima replied, situating herself within the circle with her stack of papers and a shopping bag filled with various mysterious objects. "Let's see . . ." She inspected the top sheet in her sheaf of research closely before concluding, "Okay! Now, I need you guys to sit down facing Robin. Robin, you need to be facing me because that would be west—right?" She then turned in a circle pointing in the different directions as she mumbled something that sounded like "Never Eat Shredded Wheat." More loudly, she concluded, "Yeah, west. That's right."

"Are you sure you can handle running this?" Amon inquired pointedly, as if he sincerely doubted her competence—which he probably did.

"Yes, I'm fine now," Doujima retorted, glaring at him over her papers. "I _was_ fine before someone decided to slip me drugs." She spared half a glare for Sakaki who was standing guard at the door to prevent interruptions. Karasuma, the real culprit of the "drug-slipping," was back at the office covering for their absence.

"Then let's get this party started," Dante said dryly, plopping down on the floor near the center of the circle with a wry grin. _Why am I so anxious to do this? _he wondered silently. _I may be connecting myself to Robin with this spell, but I'll be stuck with Rambo too. I wonder if this is reversible?_

Robin straightened her skirts as she seated herself next to Dante with more grace than he had bothered to exercise, while Amon crouched down beside her like a deadly animal, merely taking on the appearance a seated position though he was still ready to leap at any moment. The man's constant vigilance irritated Dante; he wasn't sure whether Amon only stayed on perpetual high alert in his company, or if Amon always kept himself on guard no matter whom he was with. Did the man ever relax? Did he sleep? Questions like this annoyed Dante, mostly because they were pointless in the first place, but also because he couldn't figure out why he even cared what their answers were.

When they were all seated, Doujima began situating the objects necessary for the spell in a haphazard pattern around her. "Okay," she said slowly, her nose still buried in her papers, her studious expression at odds with her usual apathetic demeanor. Reaching for a goblet which reminded Dante unpleasantly of his sojourn through that damned castle on Mallet Island several years back, she placed the cup between them and poured a few glugs of blood-red liquid into it. Dante assumed it was wine, though he couldn't be sure, and he certainly didn't care to take a sniff of it in order to find out. As he examined the jewel-studded goblet, he considered what kind of ludicrous name it would have gone by had it actually been from Mallet. The "Goblet of Rapture" perhaps? Or maybe the " Inexplicable Chalice of Doom?"

"Dante, you need to crush these flower petals here and sprinkle them into the liquid," Doujima ordered, interrupting his thoughts. "And Amon, you need to take a pinch of this powder and scatter it in the cup at the same time."

Grumbling under his breath about having to be the one to crush the flowers, Dante complied and watched with a raised eyebrow as a plume of smoke rose from the "chalice of doom." "I hope it's supposed to do that."

"It's fine," Doujima replied quickly, consulting her papers. "Now, I need you to repeat after me." She began reciting what sounded like a bunch of gibberish to Dante, but she at least paused every few syllables so he and Amon could easily repeat them back to her. As they echoed her words, she added a few other substances to the mixture in the goblet, turning the concoction a frothy violet color.

It was at that point Dante noticed the room had become quite a bit darker than it had been at the start of the ritual, and though he knew the candles could not have been more than a foot and a half away, they seemed to be receding, growing dimmer and dimmer as they went. The air felt heavy, charged with some kind of unseen electricity. He took a deep breath before repeating the last few words Doujima had spoken, feeling a faint mist forming around him and colliding with his skin as he turned to look at his companions. Amon and Robin were both glowing ever so faintly, the moisture particles in the air around them forming distinct halos of light which now seemed far brighter than the candles' faint illumination.

Doujima paused, cursing under her breath and shuffling her papers. "I can barely read in this fog." She seemed unperturbed by their unusual surroundings on the surface, though the slight shake in her voice betrayed her fear. "I guess it's working so far, huh?"

"Keep going," Robin murmured encouragingly.

Dante glanced at Amon, surprised the dark hunter had not interrupted with more words of caution. An unfelt wind stirred Amon's unruly locks of hair, and Dante felt the voltage in the air intensify another notch or two. He had a bad feeling things were about to get even more interesting.

-------

There were times when she felt guilty for lying to them. She wasn't sure why the indiscretions bothered her—it wasn't as if the cause her falsehoods served was an unworthy one. And it certainly wasn't as if she was the only liar at the STN-J. Yet, it was not in her nature to lie. She did it only because she had to . . . because they were not ready to know the truth yet.

It still amazed her that Amon had not yet seen through her dishonesty—he certainly _seemed_ to believe her, at least. She had worked with him several years now, and he still did not suspect her true loyalties, not even after what had happened with Kate. She was fairly certain Zaizen bought her stories as well—he was too wrapped up with all of his other suspicions to look twice at her. And the rest were too trusting of her in general to even consider she could have secrets. It didn't hurt that she only had to lie rarely in order to keep her cover, though; most of the time she just did her job like she was expected to do. She was just good old reliable Karasuma. She came to work on time, made small talk with her coworkers and fulfilled her duties with an over-achieving attitude. Most of the time she was the epitome of a model employee.

Today was not one of those times.

At the moment, she was supposed to be back at the office covering for everyone else. She was supposed to be following Amon's orders and playing the role of just another loyal hunter in Solomon's employ. She was not. She was not even a secret agent operating on a hidden agenda for Solomon or spying on the organization's own subordinates—not like Robin or Doujima. She knew about their missions—in fact, she probably knew more about their missions than they knew. But that was neither here nor there. She had no intention of interfering. They would learn the truth when they were ready.

Sitting in the quiet of her car beneath the shade of a tree budding with leaves, she pressed her phone against her ear and listened closely to the ring at the other end of the line. When she had heard the ninth ring, she pulled the phone away enough to punch in a five-digit code followed by the pound sign. Immediately, the phone began to ring again, but this time with a different tone.

"This is Zealot," a deep voice answered.

"Freelancer reporting in," Karasuma said clearly. "This is a secure line, so we can talk. How are you, Theo?"

"Miho," he said in a businesslike tone, the hint of warmth in the way he said her name the only indication he was, in fact, an affable man. "It's good to hear from you. Do you have news on the Devil's servant?"

"That's actually why I'm calling . . ." Karasuma paused, plucking at a piece of lint clinging to her sling. "I have a bad feeling about this situation. I'm not sure the STN-J can handle things on their own."

"Even with the demon hunters they have acquired?"

"Yes."

"You want backup," he concluded impassively.

"I don't like to risk exposing our operation unnecessarily, but no one will profit from the failure of this hunt—not Solomon, and not us."

"I'll have to clear this with the Revenant. Things have been tense around here after what happened in Kenya."

"I understand." She had heard about Kenya. They had lost several of their best operatives in an ambush planned by Solomon, which meant they could not continue going unnoticed by the organization.

"The Hermit might be available," Theo added quietly, and she realized he was offering her an alternative.

"I see. Do you think it so likely the Revenant will refuse my request that I should take such a risk? I've heard the Hermit's methods are rather unorthodox."

"We're all unorthodox, though, aren't we, Miho? At least we are according to the church . . ."

"Solomon, you mean."

"They're much the same thing anymore, aren't they?" She could hear his ironic smile through his voice. "Regardless, you should be receiving the Revenant's answer within the hour. The Hermit is in Kyoto, I believe, if you decide to contact him. Good luck, Miho."

The phone disconnected abruptly, and Karasuma listened to the grating sound of the dial tone for several long moments, waiting for her heart to stop pounding in her chest. She couldn't believe they would simply refuse her request for aid, but Theo's suggestion to seek out the Hermit made it quite clear how desperate the situation was in his eyes. Had they forgotten how important the Eve was? She had to be protected above all else.

Her lips pressed in a thin line, Karasuma started her car and peeled out onto the road. It wasn't in her nature to speed any more than it was her nature to lie, but she wasn't feeling particularly like herself at the moment. She did not want to have to call in a favor from the Hermit.

-------

"You want us to what?!" Amon demanded darkly at the same time as Dante cried, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Robin, still seated between the two remained deathly silent, her face ghost pale and her green eyes wide as saucers.

Doujima, glaring at both of them in turn, replied curtly, "Listen, it says right here that you both have to take drinks out of the cup and give them directly to Robin, mouth to mouth. You think I'd just make that up?"

"I think you might," Amon snapped back. "And didn't you just say you could barely read those papers a minute ago?"

"This is ridiculous!" Doujima pulled the papers out of Amon's reach before he could even grab for them. The sparkle in her eyes gave her away as far as Amon was concerned. "Why would I make something like that up?"

Dante cleared his throat, hiding a smile behind his hand. "I can think of a couple reasons."

"Either give me the papers, or admit the truth, Doujima," Amon snapped, glaring at Dante out of the corner of his eye. The half-demon seemed to be enjoying Doujima's immature attempt at a joke; this was not the time for play, and Amon had thought Dante adult enough to realize that fact. Clearly, he had been wrong. "We're running out of time."

"Doujima . . ." Robin said quietly, the gravity in her voice causing Doujima to sigh and drop her gaze slowly.

"Fine. You guys are no fun at all. You need to lighten up a bit."

"Lighten up?" Amon echoed in disgust.

"What's the real next step, Doujima?" Robin asked calmly, soothing Amon's ire with the tranquility in her voice. _How does she do that?_ He couldn't even summon enough irritation to feel anger at her power over him because she continued to work her simple spell with her quiet presence alone.

Sighing again, Doujima answered, "All of you _do_ have to take drinks out of the cup, and you two _do_ have to feed Robin her portion, but I guess you can just use the goblet—though the other variation is recommended." Squinting down at the ritual, she continued, "You both have to support the cup as she drinks, and when its empty, the final binding will begin."

"The final binding," Dante repeated. "Sounds dramatic."

"That's what it says," Doujima shrugged.  
"Right. Well, I'll go first," Dante offered before Amon could say a word, reaching for the goblet but pausing for a moment with the golden rim resting against his lips. "Do I even want to know exactly what you mixed in here?"

Smiling coyly, Doujima answered, "Probably not."

With a shake of his head and a smirk, the demon hunter took a quick swig before handing the cup off to Amon, wiping the remains of the liquid from his lips with the back of his hand. "Tasty."

Not allowing himself to hesitate at the objectionable odor wafting up from the cup, Amon poured a gulp into his mouth as quickly as Dante had, ignoring the uneven texture and bitter flavor as he forced himself to swallow. Feeling Robin's eyes watching him closely, he didn't pause before placing the cup against her pale pink lips. The roughness of Dante's hand brushed against Amon's as he supported the goblet from the bottom. Eyes wide, Robin glanced between the two of them before opening her mouth enough to allow the liquid access to her mouth; Amon struggled not to think about other things as he watched her lips embrace the cold metal, her pale throat working to swallow the unpleasant concoction.

Before the last drop had fled the cup into Robin's mouth, Amon found those "other things" to be the last thoughts on his mind. The storm he had felt rising within him since the beginning of the ritual broke loose with a suddenness he had not been expecting. The metal gripped in his hand sparked with electricity, and it seared his fingers with a scalding heat. Robin cried out in response, pulling away from the goblet spasmodically, and Amon heard rather than saw the cup clang to the floor. The torrent was whipping around him with too much fervor by then for him to make out more than the faint glow of Robin at his side, but he reached for her, finding a thin arm and pulling it toward him protectively. Her warmth against him comforted him, but soon after it began to warm his frigid skin, he felt the blinding heat of a second presence--one he recognized belatedly as Dante. The half-demon also had a firm hold on Robin, and he came along with her when Amon drew her closer.

The gale around them increased its speed, Amon's power escaping at a rate which threatened to overwhelm them all. Soon he felt Robin gripping his arm instead of the other way around. "Amon." He heard her voice faintly through the roar of air rushing by his ears. "Amon, you have to get control of it!"

Dante's presence was suddenly beside them both, strong arms pulling them closer. Amon cried out in pain as Dante's current of energy fed the storm roiling within him, tearing loose another shred of his control. "Stop fighting it," Dante growled in his ear. "The more you fight it, the harder it fights back. Let it free for a second and it will calm enough for to restrain it." Though Amon hated to listen to any advice from the demon hunter, he was not a fool. The part of him which had been mortally terrified by his own power was hiding somewhere inside him, panicking and pounding at the boundaries of his sanity; if he didn't gain control soon, he was going to find madness more quickly than he had expected. Clinging to Dante's arm and clutching Robin's slim body even closer to him, he focused on calming himself slowly, using them as anchors in the storm within his mind.

He was barely conscious when the tempest finally faded away into silence, leaning limply against Dante and hanging onto Robin more than he was holding her. Sweat dripped from his skin and he panted to catch his breath in the stifling air, hating the fact that he needed the people on either side of him merely to keep himself from slumping to the floor completely.

"Amon," Robin whispered, gingerly pushing damp hair away from his face so she could look up at him. "We did it. I can feel you . . . both of you." She looked up at Dante, but Amon kept his focus on the floor, afraid he would pass out if he so much as moved. She was right though. The connection had been created. He could feel the two of them not only tactilely, but also through that vague, shadowy place in his mind where the wind was still settling down into stillness.

"We did it," Dante agreed, his voice a rumble against Amon's ear. "Now the bitch can burn. Let's just hope she didn't notice."

"Hey . . ." a voice asked weakly from across the room. "Are you guys okay?" Amon glanced up without moving his head to see Sakaki tangled up with Doujima near the door, his feathery hair scattered in disarray around his face. "That was one hell of a thundaga spell."

Pushing herself into a sitting position beside him and threading a hand through her tousled hair, Doujima elbowed him harshly. "This is _not_ a video game, Sakaki! Wake up, already. If this _were_ a video game, my hair would still be perfect—not to mention hot pink—and I'd be wearing a skirt smaller than a band-aid. This is reality, Sakaki, not another one of your Primal Fantasies or whatever they're called."

"That's Final Fantasy. And for your information, I think that sounds like an awesome version of reality with the skirt and hair and all. I think it would be a good look for you."

"Not a chance."

Finally regaining his bearings enough to push himself to his feet, Amon managed to find his footing without too much help from his companions. "We need to get going," he managed to say, his mouth parched and his voice hoarse.

"Sure thing," Dante echoed, standing up beside him. "Just take it easy for a second, okay?"

Amon glanced at Dante in surprise when he heard the concern in the half-demon's voice. Dante looked down quickly, clearing his throat and taking a step or two away, obviously embarrassed. "I'd better call Trish and see what kind of trouble she's been getting her credit cards into. I swear, she's murder shopping for weapons—pun intended."

Amon watched Dante in wonderment as he walked away. Then he caught Robin looking at him, the smallest hint of a pleased smile quivering on her lips.

-------

Hugging her arms to herself, Touko looked out through the glass walls of her father's office at the scientists in the room beyond, watching them perform even the simplest of tasks in slow motion, their actions hindered by their bulky plastic suits. She had no idea what they were doing, or what the purpose of this "factory" was, but the fact that her father had allowed her to see as much as she had sent panic through her veins with the very implication; she knew she would have to be very expendable before he would be willing to share so many of his secrets with her.

Calming herself quickly, she told herself to remember he had brought her here to protect her, not to dispose of her; he would certainly have made sure those scientists were not working on anything important before he allowed her to even enter the room. If he had decided she was expendable she would have been gone already. That's simply how her father worked. But no, he maintained he had brought her here because this was the only place he could be sure she would be safe. After the things she had done though, she knew she was not the one in danger--she was the one responsible for causing it. Her father denied such things, of course--as he denied most things in his life--but she knew the truth of what she had done. She had nearly killed her roommate, and she had injured her lover. Despite her father's assertions that Robin was a dangerous creature and Amon was a worthless pawn, she knew they were both guiltless in her actions. She had attacked them because she had been too weak to fight that demon witch's influence, and now she was paying for her crimes with exile in this deliriously boring place.

She didn't like it here. It was perpetually cold, and the acrid smell of chemicals hung in the chilled air. But she wouldn't complain. She had earned this with her own actions. She had been influenced, perhaps, but she had still been the one to make the choices. Even if her judgment had been skewed, she should have been able to control her bitterness better than she had done. Her weakness disgusted her. No wonder Amon's eyes had turned elsewhere.

Her father's voice rose in volume suddenly, drawing her attention to his phone conversation. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she watched him slap one palm against the metallic surface of his desk before snapping, "Unacceptable. It must be ready by tonight. There is no halfway on this. If you think we have problems now with the witches, imagine a world teeming with demons. If we don't finish the new formula now, that is exactly what's going to happen." He paused, scowling as he turned a quarter rotation in his chair. "No. I need a test of the formula immediately."

Touko shivered. Hearing her father's angry voice always reminded her of her childhood. She found herself rubbing a scar below her jaw absently. This place was not the only prison she had lived in, and this wasn't the first time her father had been her warden.

Zaizen nearly crushed the cigar in his hand as he pulled it away from his mouth. "You know damned well where you can find one. I want a dead body on that cold, hard laboratory table of yours within the hour." Touko jumped when he slammed the phone down into its cradle. "I'm sorry you had to hear that," he said shortly, as if she had not both heard and seen worse things from him before. He looked up at her with eyes still darkened by anger. "They're an incompetent bunch of fools at times, but they _will_ get the job done."

_ Or they'll pay the consequences,_ Touko added silently, still rubbing at her scar.

"Have you enjoyed getting out of your room for awhile, Touko?" he asked then, forcing a smile. "I know it's terrible being cooped up in there all the time. Soon enough, this will be over and you will be able to go home. I promise."

--------

Trish was just coming out of the local weapon emporium with a couple new toys for the party with Beatrice when she noticed the oversized van at the end of the street. It looked a little high tech to be in this neighborhood, but she quickly dismissed its displacement; she had no interest in bulky, armored vans, no matter how high tech they were. Fast cars and fast bikes were another story entirely. As she was crossing the street to just such a bike--borrowed temporarily from Dante—she saw the van approaching out of the corner of her eye. Unfortunately, her disinterest cost her precious time since she heard the shots heading for her moments too late.

-------

**So there it is. Hope I haven't pushed my AU card too far this time. I guess I just figured I'd tweaked just about everyone else a little bit, why not Karasuma too? I always felt sorry for her, Michael and Sakaki since they were left out of the secret spy loop. I came up with this idea sort of out of nowhere, but I would have liked to add more references earlier on in the story to make it fit better. But, alas, those chapters have already been published and I'd hate to go back and rewrite now. **

**And Touko's back . . . I didn't want her to just disappear completely. I also apologize for new characters, and Simone being more important than I had originally said. You just have to trust me on that one. They will have far more to do with the other story I spoke of in the beginning than this one.**

**Anyway, I hope I don't lose any readership over the new oddities of this chapter, but I have to admit the story was starting to feel a bit stale for me and I needed something fresh to get me going again. Hopefully this will be it. You know what that would mean, don't you? Less time between postings. Cross your fingers. **

**Now it's respond to review time:**

**To Lavender Sakura: Thank you for supporting me!**

**To Lady Socraties: Did you think you'd get such a quick response? ;) Lucky timing, I guess. I'll check out your stories though if I can.**

**To busoshwe: And now I'm updating again. KH is fun—can't wait until the new one comes out! Jobs are good because money is good (even if it is the root of all evil). I've certainly been there with the job you don't like but pays the bills. Good luck! Mmm . . . chocolate.**

**To animegirl11: Thanks for your detailed review! Yeah, I've noticed some of those spelling and grammar things and they bug the crap out of me. Somehow though, I just never remember to go back and fix them. Continue reading for my response to Unamused. Yeah, AU is definitely going on, which, as you said, leads to OOC according to the canon. Part of the difficulty with my story is that it is not a post series fic. I think that makes it difficult for some people to accept the OOC. And, though I know I have a tendency toward the melodramatic (though I'm glad to hear it's not quite to the soap opera level). This story started out as a parody, after all and still has some parody elements despite all the drama. I think the word that best describes it is eccentric because I'm playing around with style and letting loose with some conventions I normally hold back on simply because I want to see where it will lead. I've been writing a long time before this story, and this fanfic came about partly because I wanted to experiment a little. I agree that the video game references get a bit heavy at times, but people seem to praise them far more than they reject them, so I think I'm okay on that front. I really appreciated your feedback!**

**To AmonKnight: Thanks for all the reviews, and I'm glad you enjoyed it. People react differently to things, so I like hearing people's individual reactions, but as far as the things you found funny, I don't find them odd. This story is rather wry in some ways because of the juxtaposition of funny scenes and extreme drama. Laughter is not always a bad thing.**

**To l42: Thanks, lizalou. You already know my mind. ;)**

**To tankbbg: Thank you again for supporting me. **

**To Midemixi: Thanks again! Sorry you were attacked because of it.**

**To Unamused: Crude, indeed.**

**I sincerely hope you never read this. Not because I'm afraid of how you'll reply, but because I simply cannot imagine someone who was so thoroughly "unamused" by a story would come back and continue reading it. That is of course, if you wrote your review out of honest, careful consideration and not because you just wanted to see what kind of reactions you could get. If you did write the review with a serious mindset, kindly keep in mind that tactless wording and a pretentious attitude tend to make people defensive in general, not open to criticism. In other words, an honest, critical review should not be phrased as an attack. **

**Somehow though, I'm fairly certain honest and useful criticism were not your main goals. I can come to this conclusion by observing your actions after posting the review. You obviously kept tabs on the reviews for this story since you chose to attack one of the reviewers who defended my writing style—yes, I do have one, whether it's to your liking or not. I only have one word to respond to this kind of juvenile behavior: karma. It doesn't really matter what I say about your actions, you are the one who will have to deal with their consequences. It appears you suffer from the same kind of delusion most "flamers" suffer from; though you may understand in principle that the people you interact with on the internet are real people, you don't treat them with the respect with which you would treat someone you met on the street—at least I hope you treat people better in your day to day life than you treat people on the internet, because otherwise you're likely to be a very lonely person. **

**In conclusion, I'm sorry you were not amused by my story. I was. And, apparently, so were a lot of other people. So, though I take your comments in the serious manner I am going to assume--giving you the benefit of the doubt—that you wrote them in, I have decided to go with the majority on this one, and continue writing my story the way I have been. If you have any critiques more useful than not liking my writing style or commenting on things I have already warned readers about (OOC, for example), please feel free to share them in a mature manner with respect to me as a human being. Otherwise, either keep your comments to yourself, or find a story that _actually_ amuses you!**

**I have not removed your review because I believe the number of other well-rounded reviews speak for themselves, but if you choose to write another anonymous review baselessly throwing around snide criticisms, it will be deleted. I don't have time to be constantly responding to your angry accusations. I barely have time to work on this story and respond to all the respectful reviewers in the first place.**

**To dragonlady25: Thank you. I'm not sure how much more background I will give about the situation between Amon and Zaizen, but I'm thinking there will be more since I've decided to add more about Simone. As for uploading my story, I was unable to follow the link you gave. Also, I have a site which I am posting my story on outside of this one, and I think I would rather keep it there, though you can certainly link to it.**

**To tif: Though I appreciate the request, I don't know when I'll have time for another totally new fic. We'll see though. **

**To Sweetbox: Thanks**

**To Kim "Shadow Fox" Klein: I hope the freakiness is still of the good kind. ;)**

**To Libitina De Averna: Sorry for the wait**

**To Kaiba-amon: Thanks! I had fun with that voice mail thing.**

**To Tefla: Thank you. Welcome to the WHR craze. :)**

**To Annabella5: Thanks so much. **

**To Fallen Angel: Thanks, and I agree that the Holy Grail is awesome.**

**To Seashah: Thanks, and sorry for the wait. I know I'm evil for still not explaining the scene at the beginning of the last chapter, but truth takes time. :)**

**To gullwings' princess: Thanks, and I haven't a clue how long this will be. Eventually it will end though (and another story begin. Bwhahaha)**

**To omasuoniwabanshi: Thanks. More Nagira soon, just not this chapter. Sorry. And, my job has been less crazy lately, though the holidays have made the rest of my life crazy—but in a good way. **

**To Cat/Wolf Witch Kyobi: Thank you. All but Beatrice are characters from DMC. She is my own odd creation.**

**To Robin: Thanks! Don't die. :) Robin is not the mother, I'm sorry to say, but we will be learning more about Simone in the future.**

**To Yukari Youkai: Thanks! Yeah, it's hard getting the flow back. And I'm afraid I've just totally redirected it this chapter. Hope it was in a good way and still shiny.**

**To AVAAntares: Well, you didn't have to wait _quite_ as long this time. I so want to see your drawings and stuff. Pretty, pretty please?**

**To lizalou42: I'm responding to you again? I'm getting lazy now though . . . btw, I enjoyed that typo**

**To Ann: Three Amon's definitely has possibilities. And I really don't know how the Valium in the ice cream thing would work since I haven't done a real experiment, just the one on the characters in my head. As far as the Space Michael thing goes, believe it or not, it actually comes from a video game called Space Channel 5. It's scary. **

**Well, I hope I responded to everyone. If I missed you, I apologize. See you all next time. **


	26. Bad Girls Go to Hell Part 2

**Author's Note: I know. I know. It's been a very long time. You probably thought you'd never see another chapter of this story, huh? That is, of course, if my previous readers are still out there reading this. Welcome to all new readers, btw, and welcome back any of my old readers who are still reading WHR fanfic. **

**It feels good to publish something new again, even if it doesn't flow completely with the rest of the story. I have kept the plot the same as it was in my mind before I took my break from writing, though, so you can be assured that I haven't changed the direction of the plot simply because of the long gap. I have a lot more to say to all of you, but that will have to wait until the bottom of the post. **

**For now, let's get on with the story. I'm going to start it out with a sum up. (I know it's kind of weird to have a recap in a fanfiction, but it _has_ been a long time, and I know it's hard to remember what was going on for those of you who have read the earlier chapters when they were first posted. I just grabbed the most important bits from the previous couple of chapters so that you can catch up quickly if you don't feel like going back and rereading everything before reading the new stuff.)**

**Chapter 26**

**Bad Girls Go to Hell Part 2**

_Previously in Libera Me…_

"_Amon," Robin murmured. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not talk about it, but--"_

"_You want to know about Simone," he interrupted. _

_She hesitated for a moment, marveling at his ability to predict the direction of her thoughts. Of all the hundreds of questions clamoring in her head at the moment, how had he known that would be the first one she would ask? "Yes."_

"_Simone is my daughter," Amon replied simply._

"_I'm sorry if I've hurt you with my indecision, Robin," Amon said. "But I do know one thing. I'm tired of fighting whatever is happening between us, and I'm tired of second guessing myself every step of the way."_

"_Good," she said suddenly, and he opened his eyes in surprise at her tone. He found her smiling at him from a few inches away. "I'm tired of it too."_

"_Have we located Beatrice yet?"_

"_She's rented a cabin at a lake not too far from here," Dante answered simply. "The location wasn't too hard to find. Her victory last night made her a little overconfident, it seems."_

"_Let's hope that's what it is, and not another trick."_

"_Well, if Doujima's research is correct, we shouldn't have any trouble knowing whether it's a trick or not. Apparently, Robin should be able to sense Beatrice's presence when she's nearby."_

"_Which means Beatrice will be able to sense her as well," Amon stated with a frown._

"_But, that's why we're going to use her tactics against her!" Doujima cried._

"_And how are we going to do that?" Robin asked, _

"_By using the same spell she used on you!"_

"_What?" Amon asked flatly._

"_Well," Sakaki replied, "the spell binds one person's power to another person's power, but the binding isn't just a one way street. In other words, Beatrice can draw energy from Robin, but Robin could also potentially take energy from Beatrice. The problem is that alone, Robin probably doesn't have enough power to overcome Beatrice's control of the connection. But, if we use the spell of binding we found to connect two other people to Robin, then she will have three times the power. "_

"_So, it's like a game of supernatural tug-of-war?" Dante laughed softly. "The more people Robin has on her team, the easier it is to win? Anyway, since only two of us can connect our power to Robin's, it makes sense that those of us with the strongest powers be the ones to do it. So…I guess that means Trish and I would be the obvious choices."_

"_No," Amon argued evenly. "I will be one of the two people."_

_At the moment, Karasuma was supposed to be back at the office covering for everyone else. She was supposed to be following Amon's orders and playing the role of just another loyal hunter in Solomon's employ. She was not. Sitting in the quiet of her car beneath the shade of a tree budding with leaves, Karasuma pressed her phone against her ear and listened closely to the ring at the other end of the line._

"_This is Zealot, " a deep voice answered. _

"_Freelancer reporting in, " Karasuma said clearly._

"_Miho, do you have news on the Devil's servant? "_

"_That's actually why I'm calling . . . " Karasuma paused. "I have a bad feeling about this situation. I'm not sure the STN-J can handle things on their own."_

"_Even with the demon hunters they have acquired?"_

"_Yes."_

"_You want backup," he concluded impassively._

_Zaizen slapped one palm against the metallic surface of his desk before snapping, "Unacceptable. It must be ready by tonight. There is no halfway on this. If you think we have problems now with the witches, imagine a world teeming with demons. If we don't finish the new formula now, that is exactly what's going to happen." Zaizen nearly crushed the cigar in his hand as he pulled it away from his mouth. "You know damned well where you can find one. I want a dead body on that cold, hard laboratory table of yours within the hour." _

_Trish was just coming out of the local weapon emporium with a couple new toys for the party with Beatrice when she noticed the oversized van at the end of the street. It looked a little high tech to be in this neighborhood, but she quickly dismissed its displacement; she had no interest in bulky, armored vans, no matter how high tech they were. Unfortunately, her disinterest cost her precious time since she heard the shots heading for her moments too late._

"_Amon," Robin whispered. "We did it. I can feel you . . . both of you." She looked up at Dante, but Amon kept his focus on the floor, afraid he would pass out if he so much as moved. She was right though. The connection had been created. He could feel the two of them not only tactilely, but also through that vague, shadowy place in his mind where the wind was still settling down into stillness. _

"_We did it," Dante agreed, his voice a rumble against Amon's ear. "Now the bitch can burn. Let's just hope she didn't notice."_

…_And now, the story continues…_

"Did you kill it?" Though the words were not directed at her, the harshness of her father's voice made Touko flinch, a habit ingrained in her by years of attempting to avoid his anger. She glanced at him warily, watching him turn his chair slowly as he continued a feral smile on his lips, "Excellent. We finally have a weapon we can use against them."

A leaf of paper, dislodged by the back of his chair as he turned, floated off his desk and drifted down to stop at Touko's feet. Narrowing her eyes and glancing back up to make sure her father's attention was still occupied elsewhere, Touko crouched slowly and pretended to wipe a smudge from her left shoe while her right hand slipped the small note into her sleeve. It could have been nothing more revealing than a reminder to pick up a suit at the dry cleaner's, but she couldn't simply ignore the possibility of learning more about her father's plans when such an opportunity presented itself. She would examine the paper later in the semi-privacy of her room.

"Yes. I want more tests conducted. Take it to examination room three." He shook his head before continuing. "No, I will look at the body later. The only dead demon I'm interested in seeing right now is Beatrice. We were lucky enough to track her to her new hideout and we can't waste this opportunity. I'm coming up." He had already risen from his chair and was riffling through a drawer for something. "Be prepared to enact the plan as soon as I arrive."

She frowned, watching him examine the orbo gun he had finally retrieved from the desk drawer. She couldn't help thinking he was in over his head where this orbo was concerned. He was obsessed with it; obsessed with destroying all witches by any means necessary. But he was playing with a fire he didn't understand, so blinded by his obsession that he couldn't see the danger. She didn't know very much about orbo or how it worked, but her father hadn't been studying it long enough to know everything about it either. He was normally cautious whenever witches were concerned, but he seemed to have thrown all caution to the wind because of this demon. Not that Touko could blame him for being frightened—Beatrice had certainly terrified her—but she thought he was being foolish to put so much trust in the power of orbo.

Slamming the phone down decisively, he looked up at her with an expression of apology she might have believed if she hadn't known him so well. "I'm afraid I have some business to attend to. You'll have to return to your room now." He jabbed at a button on the phone.

"Yes sir?" A voice inquired through the speaker.

"Send someone to escort my daughter back to her room." He paused, looking up at her with a tender expression that seemed foreign on his face. "This will all be over soon, Touko."

Bowing her head slightly in acquiescence, Touko followed the man who appeared in the doorway moments later, wondering why her father even pretended to care about her in the first place; he had never played the role of doting father well, and his sudden concern over her well being bothered her. What value did she have to him now that was absent before? She refused to believe that he still had a streak of humanity left; she couldn't imagine he had much room left in him for anything aside from his obsession with destroying everything remotely supernatural.

She fingered the note in her sleeve as they turned a corner into another hallway. Part of her wanted to do nothing but hide until this ordeal was over—she was horrified at the thought of being used again, by Beatrice or her father—and she didn't know if she could ever face Robin… or Amon again. Still, another part of her, a part that was gaining strength with every hour she spent locked up in this dismal factory, wanted to get involved and make her own path rather than follow the paths chosen for her by others. She wanted to take action and perhaps make up for at least some of the mistakes she had made.

Her escort motioned her to a stop at an intersection of corridors and she repressed a groan of frustration. Her hand clutched the note in anticipation as they waited for several suited figures to cross their path pushing a cloth covered gurney. Touko noticed a pale hand peeking out from beneath the cloth; it looked very feminine. She raised an eyebrow. Was this the "specimen" her father had been discussing on the phone?

When the hallway ahead was clear, her escort began walking again, clearly expecting her to follow. She glanced down the hall as they passed, watching the gurney disappear through a doorway. She could just make out the glimmer of computer readouts and laboratory equipment before the door shut with a snap.

"Here we are," her escort stated, gesturing at the door to her room. She entered obediently when the door opened, and listened to it shut behind her with a sigh. The walls were utterly blank. The bed was sterile and crisply made so that it looked as if it had never been slept on—not that she had done much sleeping in this room anyway. The lurid, fluorescent light splashing from the wall sconces against the flat white ceiling threatened to give her an instant headache, but she forced herself to focus. Sitting down slowly on the bed and facing away from the camera in the corner of the room, she discreetly pulled out the note.

She had to read it several times before she found anything meaningful in its cryptic words. It was a portion of a fax which had apparently been torn in several pieces, but after a few readings she managed to put the sentences together. The first several lines reported the success of a mission of some sort, while the next portion described the status and new location of someone named Simone. Her breath caught in her throat when she finally deciphered the last sentence. Two words connected in her mind and she felt an involuntary tear slip down her cheek.

Amon.

Child.

----

"Why the hell isn't she answering?" Dante demanded, snapping his phone shut with a scowl. I know she gets a little scatterbrained when she's shopping for weapons, but this is ridiculous even for her."

"Maybe one of us should go looking for her," Sakaki offered hopefully. Doujima swatted him on the arm.

"Nah," Dante sighed, shaking his head. "She'll turn up eventually, I'm sure. She always does."

Despite the expression of nonchalance on his face, Robin could feel Dante's worry through the thread connecting them. She could also feel Amon's agitation as he paced slowly around the room, hands clenched at his sides and lips pursed. They had only been connected for an hour or so, but already the sensation of experiencing their feelings as if they were her own was starting to wear on her. She hoped she wasn't projecting her own emotions on them as strongly as they were on her, but strong emotions tended to come through no matter how much you tried to hold them back. Frowning, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and tried to focus her thoughts amongst the swirl of invasive feelings clouding her mind.

"We can't wait any longer," Amon announced. "Tonight is our last chance to end this, and I won't go into this situation with half-baked, last-minute plans. If she can't keep track of the time, then—"

"Fine. Let's start working on that strategy, then," Dante interrupted crisply, an edge to his voice that Robin could feel grating against her spine. "No time to waste, right?" The two men exchanged a glare, and Robin frowned again, this time rubbing her temple.

"Robin, are you all right?" Doujima asked quietly, but her words were loud enough in the strained silence to draw everyone's eyes to Robin.

"I'm fine," Robin replied, quickly composing her features as best as she could. "Let's get to work." Though the emotion was positive this time, she almost drowned in the immediate wave of concern emanating from both Amon and Dante. "Really, I'm fine," she repeated, glancing at both of them with what she knew was a pathetic attempt at a smile.

A hint of guilt for his outburst shadowing his features, Dante dropped down into the nearest chair at the table, looking away with a scowl. Amon sat down at the opposite end of the table a moment later, a similar, subtler expression on his face. He unfolded a map and spread it out smoothly with gloved fingers. "This is a map made with satellite photos I gathered of the area. The cabin Beatrice rented is here." He pointed to a dark rectangle near an inlet of the lake. Pointing to a cliff jutting out into the lake near the rectangle, he added, "My guess is that Beatrice will center the ceremony here."

"Would she pick a place so close to the cabin?" Karasuma asked. "If she didn't hide the fact that she rented the cabin, wouldn't she at least choose a less obvious place for the ceremony itself?"

"Hey, just because I said it was fairly easy for _me _to find out about the cabin doesn't mean she didn't hide it. It's not like she was so stupid that she signed for the cabin as 'Beatrice, the Evil Demon from Hell," Dante said. "I'm just good."

"From what Trish told me this morning," Doujima said with a grin, "_she _was the one who found the cabin."

Sakaki rolled his eyes. "You weren't exactly coherent this morning, Doujima."

"Nothing was wrong with my ears," Doujima snapped.

"Hearing isn't the same as understanding."

"My point was," Dante interrupted, and Robin squirmed in her seat as she felt his annoyance, "that Beatrice wasn't issuing an invitation to the party this time. She didn't have much time to cover her tracks but she did take some steps to hide her location."

"Nevertheless, she knows we are searching for her, and I imagine she expects us to find her," Amon said dismissively. "She might not have announced her location, but she must realize that she didn't cover it up well enough to do anything more than delay its discovery. If she expects us to find the cabin, I doubt she would waste any effort choosing an obscure location for the ceremony. It would be inconvenient for her and probably wouldn't keep us from finding it at this point anyway."

"If she expects us to find her, then she probably has a trap set up for us," Sakaki sighed.

"She's running out of resources for traps," Karasuma said, pursing her lips. "She needs everyone she has for the ritual. I doubt she has followers to spare for guard duty."

"They wouldn't be her most powerful followers either," Amon said, "because the most powerful witches would be occupied with the ritual."

"She must have something else up her sleeve then," Doujima commented. "Unless she just doesn't consider us much of threat anymore. That would be a big mistake though. We can be truly annoying if we try."

"That's so true," Sakaki agreed. "Some of us more so than others."

"Wait a minute," Doujima gasped, ignoring Sakaki's comment. "This ritual she's performing… she doesn't need human sacrifices or anything, does she? I have no desire to be barbeque."

"I considered that possibility as well," Amon said quietly. "We can't be certain which ritual she will be using to open the door, but I had Michael research the subject yesterday anyway. Spells of this magnitude all require at least one human sacrifice."

"But you don't think she plans to use us, do you?" Sakaki asked, a horrified expression on his face.

"She could find a lot easier sacrifices," Dante said. "All she has to do is ensorcell a few easily influenced humans."

"Great!" Doujima complained. "Now we have to deal with saving innocents too."

"All of this is speculation at this point," Amon reminded. "But, it is likely that she _will_ need sacrifices to open the door, so we need to keep the possibility in mind. Now, back to the location I pointed out earlier." He returned his attention to the map. "Michael found a number of common requirements for the ritual in his research—certain attributes necessary in the location where such a ritual is taking place for it to work. This is the only area on this side of the lake that fulfills all of them. I don't think that the proximity of this location to the cabin she chose is coincidence."

"What do you think, Robin?" Doujima asked. "You're the expert on these kinds of things."

Robin felt Amon's surprise almost before she felt her own. She had been content to remain silent during the conversation unless she had a strong objection to something that was said, but Doujima kept drawing attention to her. She looked at Doujima uncertainly for a moment before looking more closely at the map. She noted the concentration of elements around the area Amon had pointed out, as well as their arrangement relative to the location; the spot was embroiled in various forms of natural energy. Something felt wrong about it, though. The abundance of water canceled out some of the other elements, and water would not be Beatrice's natural ally, especially in the kind of magic she was trying to perform.

She felt Amon's eyes on her and knew he could feel her doubts through their connection. She ignored him as best as she could as she began scanning the rest of the map for a better location. A grassy clearing east of the cabin caught her attention because of a similar concentration of elements around it. It didn't have as many sources of energy, but the ones she could identify were in the right places. Then she noticed a flaw in her theory when she saw an outcropping of rock upsetting the balance; it would be a strong source of earth power and it was on the wrong side of the clearing to be helpful.

"Any thoughts?" Karasuma asked a little impatiently.

"I don't think it's the right place," Robin said hesitantly, her eyes still tracing the line made by the outcropping of rock near the clearing. "It has a lot of attributes that make it useful for magic, but they aren't in the right proportion for Beatrice's spell." She followed the line made by the rock to another line made by a nearby stream and then expanded her field of vision to incorporate a line of pine trees in the other direction. She gasped and traced the lines with her finger. They made a circle with the grassy clearing at the center. "This is it."

"I didn't notice that before," Amon said softly. She shivered at the emotion she felt from him; it was something close to awe. "It doesn't have everything on Michael's list, but the way the geography makes a circle around it seems a little too perfect."

"But how would Beatrice know what the geography looks like from above?" Sakaki asked skeptically.

"The lines around this place create a power that Beatrice would be able to feel," Robin replied. "She wouldn't need to see the lines to feel their effect."

"So, how are we going to approach this location? There's a lot of ground to cover," Dante asked.

"At least it's not very easily defended," Amon pointed out. "There are several points of entry." He pulled a topographical map out of a stack of papers and spread it out on top of the first. "The clearing is the lowest point in that area. We should be able to get a good view of her defenses before we attack."

"Amon?" Karasuma said suddenly. "It's about time for me to be getting back to the office. The Chief was suspicious about everyone's absence earlier. He'll be even more suspicious if none of us come back before the end of the day."

Amon nodded. "I'll contact you after the meeting with the rest of the details. I want you to coordinate the mission from the office with Michael tonight."

Karasuma seemed a little surprised. "You don't want me in the field?"

"No. Michael will need your help, and you're injured."

"Okay… Then, I'll be waiting for your call."

"See you later, Miho," Doujima said with a wave.

Dante watched Karasuma leave with a frown, his eyes shifting to the clock above the door when she was gone. Robin glanced at him, sensing his worry flaring again. The reminder of the time had probably reminded him of Trish's continued absence. He reached for his cell phone on the table and covered it with his hand, fingering the plastic edges anxiously as he returned his attention to the map. Without thinking, Robin found herself placing one of her hands on top of his in reassurance, but the physical touch only increased her awareness of his feelings. He looked at her, and his silver-blue eyes smiled despite the crease of worry between his eyebrows. Patting her hand lightly with his other hand, he leaned closer to her and murmured, "Don't worry about me, kiddo. She likes testing my patience, is all. She's fine, I'm sure."

------

It was cold.

For an uncertainly long measure of time, this was all her muddled senses could register. Her eyes were closed; the effort required to lift her eyelids seemed to be too great to even be contemplated at the moment, so she decided to let them be. Bright, flickering light filtered through her eyelids, and by its hue told her it was artificial. The stale, hygienic air confirmed this conclusion, along with the steady hum of machinery surrounding her. Metallic noises echoed in her ears—clicks and beeps and the shuffling of fabric filling the otherwise imposing silence of the room with a chaos almost overwhelming to her limited senses.

When consciousness had first started to assert itself in slow, meaningless bits of sensory imagery, she had felt so numb that she doubted her own existence. It was a very existential way of viewing her current state, but slowly feeling had returned to her limbs—along with the sensation of cold—though she had felt reluctant to test her control over her own body. She felt as if she had been away from it for awhile now, and she wasn't sure it would like her intruding on it again.

With infinitesimal slowness, she finally decided to give movement a try. Her index finger twitched ever so slightly, rewarding her with the sensation of cool, smooth metal. That was what she was laying on, she realized. A little less cautiously, she decided to try her eyelids next. After lifting them only a fraction, she closed them reflexively, the bright, overhead light leaving afterimages in her retinas. The process of becoming accustomed to the light took longer than she would have liked, but eventually she managed to see the grey, unadorned ceiling tiles around the light fixture without blinking unnaturally.

Now, for the next question. Where in the world was she? Her gut told her she wasn't simply inside. She felt an instinctive distance between her and the outside world, as if she were underground—far underground—with layers, upon layers of dirt and concrete separating her from the sky. How she knew this fact, she wasn't sure, but she could feel it too strongly to doubt the sensation.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced at it without moving her head. A blurry image of a figure in a lab coat slid across her vision. So, she was underground in a lab of some kind. How did _that_ happen?

Memories hit her gut like a hammer hitting an anvil.

Trish relived the memory then, as if for the first time.

_She was walking across the street, weighted down with shopping bags filled with artillery. How ironic; she was carrying a surplus of weapons and ammunition, but none of them could save her before strange bullets began pelting her. Slowly, she looked down at the wounds to find strange, luminous green liquid spreading out from the places where the bullets had smashed against her body. She had expected to see blood. How odd. _

_Her shopping bags fell with an unearthly slowness, as if gravity had decided to take a day off, but her knees hit the pavement without any perception of having changed position, as if there was a short in her mind's circuit and her senses weren't recording things properly. Then, she had stopped sensing entirely and lost consciousness. _

Though it had seemed more finite then that, she realized, as the immediacy of the memory faded away. At the time, she had felt as if everything was over. She had felt as if she wasn't simply closing her eyes for a period of time—she was closing them for the last time. It felt as if she had died. But here she was, in a laboratory of some sort, quite alive.

A shuffle of fabric and a panicked exclamation from her right caught her attention. "It—it's awake!"

"You're hallucinating. It was dead when we brought it here. It—No! It can't be…"

Trish found herself sitting up before she remembered telling her body to move; she was relieved to find that movement wasn't as difficult as she'd thought it would be. "Where am I?" she demanded of the wide-eyed men around her, but she heard no coherent response.

One of the men reached for a gun and aimed it at her, firing a shot before she could even react, but when the bullet smashed against her left shoulder she felt a surge of energy course through her. Jumping off the examining table, she made a taunting gesture to the man, daring him to fire again. He did, and she didn't even try to avoid the shots. Whereas the strange bullets had instantly made her feel weak when she had been on the street, they seemed to have an opposite effect on her now. She felt strong, stronger than she had ever felt before, and each bullet seemed to fill her with new strength.

She decided to test that strength. Summoning her power, she felt a flood of energy wash over her, filling her beyond her capacity to contain it. Without thinking, she found an outlet for the power, slamming her hand against a nearby computer panel. Electricity arced from computer to computer, the lights flickered fitfully and the sparking energy finally exploded from every wire in the room, filling the air with energy. When Trish finally cut off the flow of power, the men in the room were barely more than a pile of ashes and bones.

Her nose twitched at the smell of burnt flesh, but she immediately turned her attention to escape. She didn't know who these people were, or why they had tried to kill her, but she had a feeling they were somehow connected to Beatrice. She needed to get in touch with Dante and the others and share information before they were attacked as well.

-----

_What kind of mascot is that, anyway?_ Karasuma wondered, looking at the enormous pink stuffed animal leering from a shelf in front of her, its cone-shaped head and gangly body dressed in bright blue overalls only emphasizing its alien appearance. As far as she could tell, the mascot of Tokyo Tower had absolutely nothing in common with the tower itself, and yet there were dozens of the figures of all shapes and sizes adorning the shelves of the gift shop. She wasn't sure why she was surprised; everything has a mascot, so why shouldn't Tokyo Tower? Still, she might have felt more at ease with the universe if the pink creature had at least some small thread of connection with the landmark.

The relevance of the mascot seemed unimportant compared to its merchandising value, she realized, as she watched an American child grab one of the hideous pink toys from the shelf and proudly show it to her mother. Smiling at the girl, Karasuma supposed she had been overanalyzing things a bit. A frown replaced her fleeting smile, though, when she remembered why she was here in the first place. Unpleasant thoughts about what would happen to the innocent tourists filling the gift shop if Beatrice succeeded in her plans made her moment of marketing introspection seem hollow and meaningless in comparison.

Shaking her head, she wandered away from the shop, checking her watch again. Five more minutes. Looking out over the panoramic view of the busy city, she felt a sudden desperation to preserve it in her memory, as if wishes and hopes could have any impact at all on the invisible nightmare looming on the horizon. Touching the railing with a bare hand, she closed her eyes in shock, momentarily overwhelmed by the sea of emotions trapped in this one length of metal. Within the metal's recent memory, hundreds of people had stood in the same spot she was standing, each with their own hopes and dreams, thoughts and concerns as they leaned closer to the glass, snapping pictures and searching for landmarks in the sea of buildings and streets below. They had no idea that the world they knew could end at any moment—and very likely would end if a handful of hunters from the STN-J failed to stop it from happening.

"Dreadful city isn't it?" a man behind her said in a snarky Brittish accent. "So many bloody boring buildings as far as the eye can see." She was fluent in English, but his accent was more difficult for her to interpret than most. She glanced at him as he stepped up to the railing beside her, pale blue eyes squinting at the sunny day outside. Black hair cropped short—but still shaggy enough to curl limply on his forehead—shadowed his angular features. He was younger than she had expected.

"You're the Hermit," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he answered with a shrug. Turning his back on the city and leaning against the railing, he added, "I liked Kyoto better, I think—though this whole bloody country makes me claustrophobic."

"England is even more cramped, as I recall."

The Hermit glanced at her with an odd expression, giving her the impression he knew rather a lot of things she did not know and was unlikely to find out in the near future; his reasons for impressing this fact upon her in response to her simple statement, though, she understood even less. "So it is." He looked away, pale gaze searching the crowd of tourists silently for a moment. "You called me here for a reason, I assume, though I think you might have picked a better meeting spot."

"It's inconspicuous," Karasuma replied, already growing weary of the Hermit's negative attitude. "And public."

"'Public' is a good word for it. Though, from what little I know of animation in this country, Tokyo Tower is a rather conspicuous landmark indeed."

"Well, real life is not anime," Karasuma countered bluntly. "In real life, Tokyo Tower is little more than a tourist trap and a less than glamorous destination for school field trips."

The Hermit smirked. "I'd gathered that much, at least. Still, you have to admit it's a little ironic. Here we are, talking about the end of the world in a locale that—in at least several popular works of fiction—figures rather heavily in such events."

Karasuma merely returned his cheeky grin with an exasperated frown. At the time, she had thought the Revenant's offer to employee the Hermit on her behalf since he could spare no agents of his own was a generous one, but now she was beginning to feel as if it had simply been a very unamusing joke. The Revenant had never been known for his sense of humor, but perhaps he had simply been misunderstood.

"Well," the Hermit continued, shrugging slightly, "I certainly hope you didn't hire me to deal with any anti-gravity sword fights or twenty story tall giant robots. I'm afraid I left my Gundam at home."

"Mr., um, Hermit…" Karasuma began, attempting to steer the topic back in the direction of the point. "As I understand it, you've come a long way for mission, not a pleasant conversation."

Frosty blue eyes met hers with a frigid intensity. "Crowds make me nervous."

"Then we should finish our business soon so you can escape them."

"Go on."

"We have only a few hours left to stop a half-demon from opening a doorway between the demon world and ours. We have a location and a relative time for her ritual to take place, but she has managed to be two steps ahead of us since we started tracking her, and she doubtless has a backup plan in place. You are _our_ backup plan. I don't want to reveal my duplicity or our organization at all unless it becomes absolutely necessary in order to stop Beatrice."

"So, something low-key then. Do you have anything in mind?"

"The ceremony is taking place outside—"

"Naturally."

"We won't have access to the site beforehand because we don't want to tip her off, so we can't set up a trap."

"Just as well. Projectile weapons have always been my forte anyway. Are there any trees around this location? Higher ground?"

"Yes."

"Great. I'll snipe."

Karasuma lifted a brow. "Do you think a bullet will stop a demon? We've experimented with bullets and orbo already and failed miserably."

A stilted grin twisted the Hermit's lips. "You don't have access to the kind of ammo I use. She may be good, but I doubt she can regenerate a head."

"She has powerful personal shields, and the ceremony will only give her more power."

"I'm not without power myself. I can get around that if you and your friends at the STN-J fail that badly. I will get a shot in." He smirked. "And I will only need one."

"I hope you are as good as you claim. I have a bad feeling we will need the backup."

--------

The note felt sweaty in her hand, but Touko refused to put it down. She had made her decision. She wouldn't follow her father any longer. He was out of control, and beyond help. All that was important now was to find Amon and warn him that his daughter was in danger.

His daughter. Touko swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty. He had never been hers, she realized. She had felt jealousy for the way he looked at Robin, but even that jealousy had been unfounded. She had no right to be jealous because he had never belonged to her in the first place. Blinking back tears, angry at her own weakness, she folded the note carefully and slipped it into her pocket. She couldn't afford to be a coward any longer. Beatrice couldn't use her again because she wouldn't be weak again. She would stand up for herself for once, and she would help Amon, even knowing he belonged to someone else.

Her knees shaking only a little, she rose to her feet and faced the door, biting her lower lip. She needed to get out of here. From the sounds of his conversation, her father would be occupied away from the Factory for a while. If she was going to make a move, it had to now. She took a step forward and the door slid open. Good. It wasn't locked. Her escort was still standing outside the door, a gun in his hand.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, and she steadied her nerves.

Thinking quickly, she replied, "I need to use the restroom."

The man nodded, and touched a panel next to the door. She hated that every time she needed to so much as go to the bathroom, the guards had to check in and report where they were going and why. It was degrading, and made it obvious that they weren't there merely for her protection. But now things were going to change. She wasn't sure how she would escape—the bathrooms didn't exactly have windows and her escort was the one with the gun—but she would have to just take one step at a time.

Just as she was formulating that next step, the lights flickered.

"What was that?" her escort snapped when they flickered again, crossing the hall to the nearest wall panel.

Touko noticed that they were near the intersection of hallways where she had seen the gurney. That meant they were also close to the elevators. Visually determining her escort's level of distraction as he called in to his superiors, she took a few steps closer to the middle of the intersection, straining to see down the hall in the direction she figured the elevators to be. A moment later, the lights flickered violently and a loud crack of electricity followed by a scream drew her attention back to her escort.

Bright arcs of lightning were jumping out of the panel he still had a finger pressed against and his body spasmed. Squinting through the bright light, she noticed what she thought was smoke rising from the man's skin and abruptly turned away, sickened. She heard a thud as he fell to the floor and the lights finally resumed their steady glow, but she didn't turn to look.

This was her chance.

She had taken two steps before she heard a door open in the hallway behind her. She took off running, but the slippers her father had given her to wear in the Factory didn't have much traction on the slick, polished floor and she slid into a wall.

"Hey!" a feminine voice called from behind her, the click of boots coming closer.

"You can't make me stay here!" Touko screamed, clawing her way back to her feet and taking off again, the dull light of the elevator readout within sight.

"I don't want to make you stay here," the voice replied with a laugh, now much closer. "I want to get out too. Do you know the way?"

Touko paused, looking back over her shoulder at the lissome blond standing behind her. She was startled for a moment by the woman's risqué attire as well as her obvious failure to fit in with anything belonging in the Factory. Suddenly, the connection clicked in her mind, and she gasped, "You were the one on the gurney! The one they brought in."

The woman smiled. "Yeah, that was me. I still don't know what they wanted with me, but I wasn't about to find out. Did they capture you too?"

Touko considered the woman's question, glancing at the elevator out of the corner of her eye. "Not exactly."

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter at the moment. Now, you know a way out of here?"

Finally making the decision to trust this woman, Touko answered. "The elevator's right over there. That's the only way out."

"Then they'll expect us to go that way. We'd better hurry."

They rushed down the hall in the direction of the elevator, only to find their path blocked by a number of men in full body armor moments before they arrived. Touko stopped in her tracks, fear pounding in her veins. This wasn't good. They were trapped, and now she would be associated with this woman who was obviously their enemy. She glanced at the woman, only to find her smirking.

"Nice toy guns you've got there," the woman said, stepping in front of Touko as if to shield her. "Go ahead and shoot me if you must—if you don't mind shooting a woman who isn't carrying a weapon. But please, try not to hit my hostage."

Touko crouched behind the woman when the men let loose a barrage of gunfire. What was she doing? This was madness.

The sound of the woman's laughter made Touko lift her gaze again. The woman was covered with green goo Touko recognized as orbo, but otherwise she seemed to be unharmed. "Mmm, I love the way that makes me feel," the woman purred and the men took a few steps back, looking at each other in alarm. "Do you want to know how it feels?" Touko took a step away from the woman as she snarled and electricity jumped to her fingertips, shooting across the room in bright flashes.

Moments later, none of the men were left standing, and the woman grabbed Touko's arm and pulled her toward the elevator. Touko was too confused to complain, and too elated at the possibility of escaping to truly care.

When they were finally standing in the elevator and the floor indicator was smoothly counting its way up to the surface, the woman turned to Touko, brushing orbo off her clothes. "My name's Trish, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Touko." Questions clamored for Touko's attention, but what she finally said was, "You're not human, are you?"

Trish smirked. "No. I'm not. But believe me, I'm not the demon you need to worry about."

"Demon!" Touko pressed her back against the side of the elevator, as if she could somehow slip through the wall and disappear. "Like Beatrice?" Her last words were a whisper, but caught Trish's attention completely.

"You know Beatrice?"

Touko tried to swallow, but her mouth felt unbelievably dry. "She... My father said he was going to kill her."

"Your father…?"

Looking at the ground in shame, Touko whispered, "He's the one in charge of this place."

"The one who attacked me!" Trish snarled. "The one who thought he'd killed me with those green bullets? Well, he's in for a nasty surprise, then." She shook her head in disgust.

"Why? Are you one of Beatrice's allies?" Touko accused, fingering the orbo gun she had snagged off of one of the bodies on her way to the elevator."

"Not even close," Trish shook her head.

"Then why did you say that?"

"Your father is making a mistake. All he's going to do by hitting her with this green crap is make her stronger," Trish snapped, leaning back against the opposite wall of the elevator, her arms crossed over her chest. "Dante's gonna be pissed," she added under her breath.

"Wait." Touko shook her head. She knew that name. "Dante?"

------

"Does anyone have anything else to add?" Amon asked as if he were daring anyone to find a hole in his strategy.

"No way," Sakaki muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, I think that covers everything in exhausting detail," Doujima agreed with a sigh.

Dante listened to the conversation around him distantly, staring at his phone as he opened and closed it methodically. Why wasn't she answering? This was beyond the limit of Trish's immaturity. She had been out of touch for too long, and now Dante was beyond concerned and barreling straight toward panic. He shouldn't have brought her into this. No matter how angry she got with him for failing to treat her as a full partner, he should have left her out of this case. It was just too dangerous.

He felt the plastic of the phone creak in his fist and he forced himself to slowly relax his hand and put the phone down on the table. Taking a deep breath, he noticed that someone was watching him. Robin's expression was full of concern he could feel as well as see, and he forced a smile for her. Then he noticed the weight of another pair of eyes on him and found Amon regarding him as well. Both of them knew exactly how he was feeling right now, so of course they would be distracted by it. He needed to learn to filter his own emotions a little better, he supposed.

Scowling, Dante rose to his feet and stretched the kinks out of his back. "I'm going to go look for Trish," he announced.

"We don't have time for that right now," Amon countered quickly, and Dante could feel the steely edged determination hidden behind Amon's mask.

"The hell we don't," Dante snapped. He placed his hands palm down on the table, hearing the Doujima's and Sakaki's conversation fall to a silent halt. "She's my partner, and I want to know what happened to her."

"We don't know that anything did."

"It's been a long time. She would have checked in by now."

"Regardless, we don't have the time to find out why she didn't."

"We don't have the time? Trish is a part of this 'well-designed' plan of yours that we spent the last couple hours outlining. I would think her presence would be important to you."

Amon's features hardened. "I purposely composed my strategy with the possibility of her absence in mind. Her role in the mission is mirrored by Doujima's."

"Doujima doesn't have Trish's power." Dante could sense Amon's annoyance, and the emotion only intensified his own anger.

"Having Trish with us is preferable, of course, but we can proceed without her."

"Is it that easy for you to just write someone off?" Dante's anger had escalated to a dangerous point. He heard Doujima gasp and knew that his aura must have been glowing by now.

"I'm simply preparing for all possibilities. I don't know why she hasn't returned yet, but I think the odds of her absence being reasonably explained are getting slimmer by the minute."

A sudden cry of anguish that Dante could both hear and feel stopped the reply in his mouth. Robin had doubled over in pain, her hands clawing at the surface of the table. "Robin!" The pain hit him then like a jackhammer to his stomach and he wondered if they were already too late. Perhaps Beatrice had already begun the ritual.

"Robin?" Amon demanded through clenched teeth. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," she managed to gasp through clenched teeth. "Beatrice is—" Her words cut off as she cried out wordlessly. When she had caught her breath again, she continued, "I think… I think she's dying."

Dante met Amon's gaze, and for a moment they were of one mind.

Then, Dante's phone rang. Scooping it up with a surge of hope, he answered, "Dante."

"Dante, we have a problem."

"Trish!"

-----

Zaizen watched the destruction from afar, a grin twisting his face so hard it hurt. They had caught the demon unaware. She had been infuriated and lashed back quickly at their attack, sending sparks flying through the air; he had lost many of his men to her flames, but he was willing to make a few sacrifices. A few rounds of orbo bullets later the demon had weakened, dropping to her knees and screaming in agony; her screams were almost physically painful to hear, a shrill sound piercing through the ear and straight to the chest.

But now the screams were starting to fade and the tightness in his chest was loosening as if Beatrice was loosing her grip on her powers. It wouldn't be much longer now before she collapsed. The world would be saved. He would be a hero and his orbo would finally gain the respect it deserved. A short laugh escaped from his lips as he thought about it. Solomon would be at his mercy. He could do away with those hunters—starting with Amon and that witch, Robin—and begin cleansing the world of all witches forever.

As the sound of the struggle died down, he heard the quiet ring of his cell phone. Raising an eyebrow, he pulled it out and was surprised to find the Factory's number registering on the screen. "Yes, what is it?" he snapped. His jaw fell slack and his heart fell to the soles of his feet. "What did you say!"

----------

"What did she say?" Amon growled, struggling to focus past the waves of pain hammering at him through his connection to Robin. The wind inside him was beginning to rise, seeing the pain as a threat and wanting to fight back against it. Unfortunately, that would only hurt Robin since she he was only feeling Beatrice's pain through her. His control over the wind was becoming more and more tenuous with every moment.

Dante leaned on the back of a chair for support, tossing his phone on the table. "She said that your boss did something stupid."

Amon's eyes focused finally on Dante, a rush of adrenaline overcoming the pain. "What?"

"He sent some of his thugs to attack her with that orbo you're all so proud of," Dante replied through gritted teeth.

"The Factory attacked Trish?" Sakaki asked incredulously.

"Where is she now?" Amon asked, his knuckles white as they clutched at the edge of the table. The pain seemed to be intensifying—though he hadn't thought it possible—and the wind inside of him was kicking up into a storm.

"On her way here. And she's—"

Amon knew why Dante stopped mid-sentence because he was just as shocked. The pain had suddenly stopped entirely. For a moment panic had replaced it as he looked at Robin in fear that she had given up against the onslaught and that the pain had stopped simply because their connection was no longer there. He sighed in relief when he saw her gasping for breath, but quite alive. Doujima was at her side, rubbing comforting circles over her slender back. "It stopped," Robin whispered, looking up finally. "Do you think she's… dead? I can't feel her anymore."

"I don't know," Dante admitted, "But I don't think so. Trish is on her way here now with new information about Beatrice—and she said it's bad news."

Amon sighed, closing his eyes as he attempted to quell the storm still raging inside of him. He itched for the vial of orbo he had given up before becoming connected to Robin and Dante; taking control of his craft was proving to be even harder than he had expected. He felt a warm hand touch his arm and his eyes snapped open to see Robin's tired green eyes looking at him in concern. The craft erupted inside him again, recognizing her as the source of his previous pain, and he grit his teeth with the effort of suppressing it.

"You have to take control of it, Amon," she whispered. "You own it. It doesn't own you."

He felt calm seeping into him through her touch and he felt another source of strength also flowing into him from across the room. Slowly, he took hold of the wind and forced it back into the cage he had created for it long ago, fighting it all the way. Feeling exhausted by the effort, he leaned back in his chair and sucked in a deep breath. Robin's small hand was still clutching his forearm possessively, but he was reluctant to break the contact so he let it be.

The room came back into focus slowly. He heard Doujima and Sakaki whining about the fact that the news was always bad, and wondering why they couldn't have some good news for once. Then he felt Dante's eyes focused on him and he turned his own gaze toward the half-demon.

Dante seemed to have been waiting for his attention. His expression was stern. "You're expending far more effort in keeping your power under control than we can afford. I know you want to protect Robin, but I think you would have been worth more to her outside this connection than in it. You're wasting energy fighting your craft and we're wasting energy helping you fight it. We can't have our attention divided between you and Beatrice tonight."

For once, Amon didn't snap back with an angry retort. Guilt choked his throat as he realized that Dante was right. He had been selfish to demand a place in the triumvirate, especially when he knew his own weakness against his craft. He could feel Sakaki and Doujima looking at him now as well, and he focused his gaze on the table, feeling the image he had spent years cultivating crumble to pieces around him. He hated vulnerability, but he loathed having his vulnerability exposed even more. He wanted them to think he was invincible because their belief in his indestructibility let him trick himself into thinking he actually was. Without that belief, he felt like he had no place leading anyone.

"Amon," Robin murmured, her grip on his arm tightening. Amon couldn't meet her eyes though he knew she could already feel his shame. The tables had turned and now she was suddenly the one with all the experience and knowledge and he was barely more than a child stumbling in the dark. "Amon," she said again, this time with more urgency. He admired her for risking his anger to get his attention. "You can't control your craft when you are afraid of it."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. "I'm not—"

"She's right, Amon," Dante said seriously, and Amon wondered if that was the first time the demon hunter had actually used his name instead of a pseudonym. "Don't bother lying about it. We can feel your fear. And if you ask me, it's damn foolish."

Amon narrowed his eyes at Dante.

Laughing at the severity of his expression, Dante said, "Don't give me that look. I'm not insulting you. I just think you're being an idiot. The strength of your power is nothing compared to the strength of your personality; give your craft the glare you're giving me, and it wouldn't dare oppose you."

"Yeah, really," Sakaki chimed in. "Your craft can't be any scarier than you are."

Doujima snorted, but quickly wiped the grin off her face when Amon shifted his glare in her direction.

"Everyone is afraid of their craft at first," Robin said reassuringly. "You just don't have the time to overcome that fear naturally. But, I know you _will_ overcome it."

Amon was quickly growing tired of this topic of conversation; he didn't like having his feelings and inadequacies analyzed, especially by his subordinates. Sensing Amon's patience wearing thin, Dante cleared his throat. "Oh, I almost forgot to mention that Trish is bringing someone along with her."

Amon forgot his discomfort immediately. "Someone? What kind of someone?"

"She helped Trish escape from the lab. I guess she's your boss' daughter."

"Touko!" Robin gasped. Amon's insides twisted and his jaw clenched almost painfully.

"What does your roommate have to do with anything?" Doujima asked.

"Touko is Zaizen's daughter," Amon answered curtly. Doujima gaped at him, but he didn't have the patience for her questions at the moment. "Zaizen must have taken her to the Factory to keep her safe. But why would she want to leave?"

Dante shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to ask her yourself when she gets here."

**So that's it… for now, at least. Like I said, I'm not sure that it has the same flow as the other chapters or if it even flows with the story all that well, but I actually wrote parts of it months ago so hopefully it wasn't too off. There was a lot of Touko and Trish (and would you believe how many times I switched their names around?) and not enough smut, but hey, I've got a little plot buildup to do before I can get to the next part. This was a girl-heavy chapter, I guess… but it is titled "Bad Girls Go to Hell" after all. **

**I know some of you may have issues with the Karasuma plot, and I'm not entirely sure of it myself, but it was one of those parts I wrote a long time ago and I liked it too much to just cut it out. Why did I like it so much, you ask? Well, that would be because I inserted one of my characters from my original story. I figured if this was going to be a crossover, why not go all the way? Plus I wrote it right after my trip to Japan last year (I can't believe it's been over a year! Wahhh!) and loved the Tokyo Tower stuff. I seriously can't believe it's been so long since I've updated this story that I haven't mentioned anything about my Japan trip…**

_**(If you're interested in hearing more about my trip to Japan, btw, I do have a photo slideshow up still here: (remove the spaces) http/ japantravel05 . fireflymkt . com**_

_**The slideshow may take awhile to load. I apologize! I knew far less about Flash back in those days. Speaking of Japan, I'm planning on going back in September with Pop Japan Travel again. My friend, lizalou, is living over there right now and I have to go visit her! Plus the tour includes the Tokyo Game Show and who's going to say no to that? Not I!)**_

**Oh, and can I just say that this day in my story is the longest day in the history of days? I promise there will be NO MORE STRATEGY MEETINGS in this story. This is getting freaking ridiculous. All these people do is strategize all the time! Seriously though, you have some definite high points to look forward to in the next several chapters: Touko's return and the awkwardness that brings; Amon's vulnerability in fighting his craft; the final Boss battle with Beatrice; some plot twists; Sakaki goofiness simply so I can reference new video games I've played; and mayhap even an appearance from Nagira. Oh, what? You wanted more romance? Come on, this is me we're talking about. I don't feel fulfilled if I don't work in romance somewhere. And I apologize to Michael lovers; he will appear in the next chapter!**

**Anyway, I don't think I'm going to be able to respond to all the reviewers this time (there are so many it would take pages and pages), but I have to say your support has been overwhelming and I think you for all of your reviews. I've gotten several emails begging me to continue writing and expressing support, and I wanted to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart! In fact, I don't know if I would have found the motivation to actually sit down and work on this right now if it hadn't been for an email I received from evilteddybear. I had been thinking about this story off and on for a long time and feeling guilty for not posting anything new, but all I needed in the end, I guess, was one last kick in the butt to make me sit down and write on it again.**

**My excuses are similar to the ones I have used in the past, but I think the biggest reason for my gap in posts would have to be that I got burnt out on the Witch Hunter Robin fandom. Can't imagine why… (have you noticed how long this story is? I don't know how misora does it—her story's much longer than mine!) So, I got tired of the story for a little while and needed a break. I worked on my original story again and got really into that. Then, I went through a string of other anime and video game obsessions (including Death Note, Honey and Clover, Scrapped Princess, Fullmetal Alchemist, Bleach, Angel Sanctuary, Ouran High School Host Club, MeruPuri, etc, etc, etc). And finally, I have so many other creative endeavors (drawing, graphic design, music) that they sometimes sap my creativity completely, leaving nothing left over for writing.**

**But I'm back, and I'm going to finish this story, gosh darnit! I may not post the next chapter immediately, so don't despair, but I will try my best not to take too long! Not another year and a half, certainly! Hopefully no more than a few weeks.**

**And now that fanfiction . net has this great reply to reviews feature, you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm going to be responding to your reviews! All three of you! (I hope there are more of you left out there than that who still want to read my story…)**

**P.S. Anyone been playing Kingdom Hearts II?**


	27. Have I Told You Lately that I Hate You?

**Author's Note: This chapter didn't turn out anything like I expected. I thought I would get a lot farther in the plot than I did, but we all know how easily I get distracted by character scenes… I thought the scene with Touko would be so easy to write, but I ended up starting it out from three different points of view and each time it turned into a completely different scene! Finally, I managed to write it, though I hope the emotions seem believable. It's important to keep in mind that all the characters are pretty much emotionally strung out at this point and tempers are short. And how did that happen? Yeah… so I tortured them all, I know… But emotional scenes are fun to write…**

**Chapter 27**

**Have I Told You Lately that I Hate You?**

Touko's hands were slick with sweat. She hated sweaty hands. She could deal with extreme temperatures—both hot and cold—and she could deal with perspiration on other areas of her body, but she could not stand sweat on her hands. Perhaps that was because her hands never sweat unless she was nervous, and she always associated being nervous with her childhood and lectures from her father—lectures that occasionally turned violent. She had read somewhere that the connection between sweaty hands and anxiety could be explained by evolution; humans sweat when they were nervous because their primate ancestors needed the sticky substance to grab tree limbs easily and escape from their enemies. But, in Touko's memory, sweaty hands had not once saved her from her enemies. Nothing had been able to do that.

Trish sighed deeply, drawing Touko's attention. The demon was gazing out the window at the passing scenery with a pensive expression; she looked so human most of the time it would have been easy to forget she was a demon, but Touko knew she shouldn't let her guard down. "So…" Trish said quietly without looking at her. "You're the Touko who attacked Robin, aren't you?"

Touko's heart leapt into a gallop. She had assumed Trish was unaware of what she had done under Beatrice's influence since Trish hadn't hesitated to help her escape the Factory, but apparently that was not the case. Touko's hands clenched the seat cushion as she searched desperately for an appropriate response.

"You were being controlled, I know," Trish added when Touko failed to say anything. "But I need to know exactly why you wanted to come with me so badly. You must realize no one will be happy to see you." She shifted her gaze to Touko with a sad smile, as if to soften the harshness of her words.

Touko slowly released her grip on the cushion. "I know. But I have to come." Folding her hands in her lap, she focused on them to avoid Trish's discerning blue eyes. "There's something I need to tell Amon."

"Somehow I don't think he'll want to hear anything you say." Trish's words, though blunt, were said with compassion.

"I'll have to make him hear me."

Trish shook her head. "Granted, I don't know him very well, but from what I do know he's a stubborn bastard. I don't think he can be made to do anything."

A smile crossed Touko's face at Trish's remark. "You're right. He is very stubborn. But I have to at least try."

"Listen," Trish said, placing a hand lightly on Touko's arm. Touko looked up at her reluctantly. "I don't think you're a bad person. I know what happened wasn't really your fault, but because you were controlled once, you are vulnerable to being controlled again by Beatrice. That's what he'll be thinking, at least. He won't trust anything you say."

Touko frowned. Trish had a valid point, and Touko had a possible solution in mind, but part of her wanted nothing less than to give up her reason to speak to Amon. She knew he would be cold to her—he had every reason to be, now—but Amon had been cold to her before. Their relationship had been unusual from the beginning, perhaps even unhealthy, but she had ignored Amon's mood swings and emotional neglect because they had been preferable to the abuse she had dealt with from every other man to enter her life. Amon had given her little during their relationship, but she had been willing to accept the lack because being with him had made her feel safe.

Thinking back on it now, she wondered if her jealousy of Amon's growing feelings for Robin had been less about losing him as a lover and more about losing the security of his presence. Amon had provided a buffer between her and her father, and though she had always known Amon was her father's man, she had liked to imagine he was hers as well. She had never seen anyone stand up to her father before, but she had always believed that Amon would have the strength to defy her father if he had reason to do so. She had dreamed he would someday be her champion, would defend her against her father's cruelty, but she was not the one he had chosen to defend.

And now she knew his secret, the weakness her father had exploited to keep Amon on his side. She could have chosen to follow her father's example and hold the knowledge over his head, but a vulnerable part of her still cared about him too deeply to hurt him in such a way. She knew he didn't belong to her—on some level she supposed she had always known—but it had occurred to her that he was not as strong as he seemed. He was likely as broken as she was inside—otherwise, he would not have allowed her father to use him.

Reaching for the neatly folded note she had tucked away in her pocket, Touko looked at Trish imploringly, hoping she was not making a mistake by entrusting something so important to her. "Does Amon trust you?"

Trish raised an eyebrow. "Does Amon trust anyone?"

"Will he trust you if you tell him you found something in the Factory?" Touko persisted.

"You mean, will he trust me if I lie that I found something in the Factory?" Trish's eyebrow had risen even higher.

Touko offered the note to Trish. "It has his name on it. I think he would want to know what it says."

Trish looked down at the paper in surprise. Taking it, she flipped it open and squinted at it for several moments. Touko looked out the window, watching Harry's coming into view around a curve in the road while the demon tried to make sense of the broken sentences on the torn piece of paper. Finally, Trish gasped and Touko knew she had seen the most important part and understood.

Snapping the paper shut, Trish leaned back in the seat, a shocked expression on her pretty features. "I'll be damned." Touko thought it would be best to refrain from mentioning the fact that Trish was already damned, seeing as she was a devil. "That bastard."

"My father is a cruel man," Touko said slowly, the words painful to say.

Trish seemed startled by her comment. "Well, yes. He is I'm sure. But I wasn't talking about him." Touko turned to look at her as the cab finally came to a stop in front of Harry's. "That bastard has absolutely no business robbing cradles," Trish explained. "He already has a daughter!" Her face was painted with outrage, but she immediately frowned with remorse when she saw the look on Touko's face. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate."

Touko shook her head, feeling oddly numb. "It's all right." She gazed out through the window at the familiar façade of Harry's, the familiarity souring her stomach. "We're here."

"Yes," Trish agreed with a sigh. She handed the cab driver his payment with a murmured apology for the mess she had made with her orbo-covered clothes and opened the door. "Are you still coming with me?" she asked, pausing with the door open, looking in at Touko.

"He will probably be suspicious if I don't show up," Touko reasoned.

"He might. He might also be suspicious if you do. But that's nothing unusual. He's paranoid. The question is: what do you _want_ to do?"

"I don't want to face them," Touko answered, mustering her determination, "but I'm tired of being weak." She reached for the door handle, cringing at the way her sweaty hand slipped on the metal.

Trish was smiling at her when she joined her on the sidewalk. "Let's go. Time to ruin everyone's day." Touko winced, but Trish patted her encouragingly on the back. "You're braver than you think. A weak person would not have tried escaping from that place on their own, and they certainly would not have helped someone like me. I don't think Beatrice could touch you again if she tried."

Touko didn't know what to say so she remained silent, but she was more grateful for Trish's support than words could express. Guilt nagged at her for her reluctance to trust Trish, and she realized that she had only been holding on to her father's prejudices. Perhaps humanity was something more than genes and ancestry. Maybe all one really needed to be human was a heart. Smiling sourly as she followed Trish into the dim restaurant, Touko realized that her father, if one used that kind of logic, was the least human of them all.

----------

"I'm telling you," Sakaki said enthusiastically, "if we had a huge Katamari, Beatrice wouldn't even be a problem. All we'd have to do is roll her up!" He made a sweeping gesture with his hands, outlining an invisible, vaguely circular shape.

Doujima shook her head, a blank look on her face. "Why is it that everything you say makes absolutely no sense?"

Sakaki wasn't paying attention to her. "Of course, we would have to start out with small things, you know, like paperclips, erasers and mahjong pieces. Those roll up easily. Then we could move our way up to PET cartons, shrubbery and eventually cats and dogs. And once you've rolled up a few of those it would be a piece of cake to roll up Beatrice and her gang." He paused thoughtfully. "Hmm…cake… you could roll up some of that too." Returning his focus to Doujima he asked, "Is there a cake constellation? If there were, you'd probably have to roll up all kinds of cakes to make it—shortcake, coffee cake, bundt cake… maybe even seven-layer citrus cake!"

Groaning in frustration, Doujima threw her hands up in the air. "I give up. I know it has to be something about a video game, but I don't even really care."

Sakaki shrugged in response. "Boy, I could really go for a piece of cake right now. I'm going to track down Master Harry." He left without another word, humming a jaunty tune that Doujima knew would be stuck in her head the rest of the day.

"He gives me such a headache…" she muttered, though she had to admit things would be a lot less interesting without him around.

Doujima glanced around the room for something else to keep her occupied. Robin was sitting serenely in her chair trying not to stare at Amon's back while Amon was standing at the window with his back to the room, effectively shutting the rest of them out. She couldn't say she was surprised; Robin rarely concentrated on anything but Amon anymore, and Amon was sulking because they had all seen him at his weakest twice in one day. They were sadly predictable and not very exciting. Sighing, Doujima turned her attention to Dante. He was slouched lazily in his chair, his head resting against the back and his eyes closed. Of the three, he was by far the most interesting to look at, even when he was doing nothing at all.

Object of interest number one: his hair. The silver strands looked so silken her fingers itched to touch them and determine if they were really as soft as they looked. Hair was her weakness. She loved the feel of it as it slid through her fingers, loved the smell of it when it was freshly washed, and loved the tickle of it when it brushed against her skin. She liked her men with enough hair on their heads for her to tangle her fingers in it; Sakaki's hair was barely long enough, but he refused to let it grow longer. Sakaki's hair _was_ pleasantly soft, at least—but so was his face. He didn't have anything but peach fuzz on his chin. Doujima didn't really like beards or moustaches, but she didn't mind a little facial hair.

That led to object of interest number two: Dante's face. It was both well-proportioned and very masculine, but she couldn't help wondering if his skin would be rough to the touch. She had taken a personality test in a magazine once which described her as someone who was very in tune with her senses. That explained why she was so fascinated by the textural quality of things, she supposed—and also explained why she was so curious about whether or not Dante had stubble on his chin. He appeared to be cleanly shaven—unlike Amon with his stray, uncut hairs along his jaw—but Dante seemed like the kind of man whose skin would still have the texture of sandpaper even if the stubble was invisible.

Lost in her thoughts, she had unknowingly started leaning in her chair as she observed him, and now he was close enough to touch. A smirk touched her lips as she considered satisfying her curiosity. It wasn't as if she had anything better to do at the moment. Glancing furtively around the room, Doujima noticed Robin watching her inquisitively, a hint of worry betrayed by the crease between her brows. Doujima smiled to set her at ease, one finger hovering in front of her lips at a perpendicular angle as a warning for silence. Robin's expression of apprehension softened, though she still looked perplexed.

Doujima returned her attention to the demon in front of her. Leaning even further out of her chair, Doujima slowly reached a hand toward Dante's face, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. She couldn't predict how he would react to her action, but there was an element of danger in the possible outcomes that she found appealing.

Her hand was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body when his eyes snapped open and he caught her wrist firmly in his hand, inadvertently pulling her off balance as he jerked her hand away from his face. She tripped over the leg of the table and fell straight toward him, landing with her head practically in his lap and her wrist still caught in his hand high above her head. Looking down at her with an arched brow, Dante leaned closer to her but kept her arm at an awkward angle.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked softly, his voice soft and suggestive.

A shiver ran down Doujima's spine, but she managed to keep her cool. "You have something on your face," she justified herself quickly.

"Oh? Is that why you were staring at me?"

"Here," Doujima said boldly, "let me wipe it off for you." She reached up with her free hand to rub over his chin as if wiping something away. Her theory was confirmed; his chin was delightfully rough to the touch. Pleased with herself, she asked coyly, "Can I have my arm back now?"

His expression said he didn't believe a word of her explanation, but he released her wrist anyway and she pushed herself to her feet. Leaning back in his chair again, Dante said with a smirk, "If you wanted to touch me that badly, all you had to do was ask."

A scoff of disgust from Amon made the blush rapidly spreading across her face intensify. She caught him glaring at her in the reflection in the window and fought the temptation to stick her tongue out at him. Shrugging, she decided the humiliation was worth it. "In that case," she said to Dante, "I have to know…" His eyes widened as she reached down and threaded her fingers through his silvery hair. It was beyond soft, she decided—as soft as his face was rough. She smiled, her eyes drifting closed. What a wonderful contrast.

"Doujima!" The hurt in Sakaki's voice was enough to make her snatch her fingers away from Dante's head. Spinning around, she saw him standing just inside the doorway with a plateful of cake, looking rather crestfallen.

Dante gave her back a gentle nudge, saying softly enough for her alone to hear his words, "It looks like he has some crumbs on his face. You'd better clean him up."

Summoning a smile, Doujima crossed the room quickly. "I was only researching, Haruto."

"Researching?" Sakaki echoed skeptically.

"Yeah, like when you play a demo for a new game," she said, toying with a strand of his hair. Sakaki's eyes narrowed. Her voice dropped into a more seductive tone. "But I think I like the old one better…"

"How much better?"

"You have something on your face." Doujima then proceeded to clean off the crumbs around Sakaki's mouth, but this time she didn't use her fingers.

----------

Robin found herself watching Doujima and Sakaki longer than she probably should have, stunned by their open display of affection. At last she tore her eyes away, a blush washing across her face. Doujima's actions confounded her. If she liked Sakaki, why had she been flirting with Dante? Robin felt slightly dirty after watching it all, a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was aware of how the majority of the world viewed sexuality, but she occasionally felt overwhelmed by outward demonstrations of it. To her, it was an intensely private thing and had no place in public. Perhaps she was naïve to feel that way, but she thought her feelings on the subject were too strong to change much with experience.

She didn't notice Amon watching her intently until she saw him move to look away. Watching his back for a few moments but getting no reaction, she finally returned her gaze to the table in front of her with a sigh. Her emotions felt raw between the emotional bombardment of the last several days and the constant exchange of emotions through her connection to Amon and Dante. She had always been sensitive to others' feelings—picking up on emotions simply by watching body language and listening to tone of voice—but now the emotions were real. They carried so much weight that she was finding her own emotions crushed beneath them, leaving her disoriented and confused.

"I swear," Dante muttered, startling her from her thoughts, "I'm going to start using Trish's shampoo every day if it has this kind of effect." He had caught a few strands of hair between his fingers and was looking at them out of the corner of his eye. "Hey," Dante said then, noticing her looking at him. "You doing okay, babe?"

She nodded silently, but she could tell he didn't believe her.

"You look really pale."

"I'm always pale," she responded with a small smile.

"Yeah," he admitted, cocking his head at her thoughtfully, "but now you're almost transparent."

"I'm just tired," she replied finally, hugging her arms to herself and closing her eyes.

"They're here," Amon announced without moving from his spot next to the window. The tangled mass of emotions he was subconsciously projecting intensified and Robin shuddered. Though she had always guessed Amon had emotions hiding behind his emotionless exterior, she had been unprepared for the intensity of them. She wondered if his constant repression of feelings caused them to strengthen over time, or if he had chosen to hide his feelings behind a mask simply because he felt things so strongly. Either way, his emotions at the moment were undoubtedly affected by the trauma of the last few days; he had been dealing with even more emotional turmoil than she had been faced with, and he wasn't someone who dealt with emotions well in the first place.

"It's about damn time." Dante said in response to Amon's announcement, relief obvious in his voice.

Robin felt anything but relief at the thought of Touko's arrival. Things had been awkward between them ever since she had walked in on Touko and Amon, but now things were far beyond mere discomfort. Robin had come to the conclusion after the incident that Touko had not consciously chosen to attack her or drug Amon, but the emotions which had led to Beatrice's manipulation of Touko had not yet been resolved. Things had become very complicated, especially with the way Robin's relationship with Amon was slowly developing, and Robin honestly didn't know what to expect. She felt as if she had stolen Amon away from Touko—which was a ridiculous idea, really, considering Amon never did anything unless he chose to do it on his own.

Still mentally preparing herself for Touko's arrival, Robin gasped in surprise when a sudden, powerful sensation hit her through the connection she had almost forgotten existed. It was an exhilarating feeling so intense Robin moaned breathlessly in response, her nerves tingling. She felt Amon and Dante watching her as soon as the sound escaped her lips, but she continued to focus on the table rather than meet the questions in their eyes, still reeling in the amazing feeling of euphoria. She had never felt anything like it before, but something about it made her feel vaguely uncomfortable and self-conscious, as if it was somehow immodest to feel such a thing in public. Her previous thoughts about Doujima's behavior came to mind suddenly and she blushed fiercely at the realization that the two experiences might be very similar.

"What was that?" Amon asked when the intensity of the feeling had faded, his voice weak.

"Beatrice isn't dead," Robin whispered.

"And she's feeling pretty damn good," Dante added, sucking in a deep breath.

"You guys are creeping me out," Doujima said, sitting down at the table again with Sakaki. "You all look like you're totally blissed out. What's going on?"

"She's alive again, isn't she?" Trish asked from the doorway and Robin stiffened, knowing Touko would be right behind her.

"You knew this was going to happen?" Amon's voice was cold and vaguely accusatory, but Robin was surprised to feel that the suspicion she heard in his voice was not what she felt from him. He seemed merely annoyed instead, as if he didn't like the fact that Trish knew something he did not.

"Yeah," Trish shrugged. "It's happened to me already."

Dante raised an eyebrow, whistling through his teeth. "You look like you just lost a paintball tournament, Trish. They really pumped you full of green slime, didn't they?"

"They wanted to make sure I was dead," Trish replied with a wry smile, taking a seat at the table.

Touko hesitated in the doorway, glancing briefly at Amon who was making a point of not looking at her. Her gaze skittered across the rest of them, meeting Robin's eyes only for a moment before she decided to look at the ground instead. Looking at her as she stood uncomfortably in the entrance, her usual poise torn to shreds, Robin realized Touko looked much more like the victim than the aggressor. Robin felt intensely guilty for ever considering that Touko would have honestly meant any of them harm, and even guiltier knowing she was the reason Beatrice had manipulated Touko in the first place. Touko was the one suffering the most now because of what had happened; Beatrice had used her to get to Robin, and then simply left Touko behind to deal with the anger and distrust her involuntary betrayal had caused.

The firm pressure of Amon's hand on her shoulder made her look up at him in surprise. She hadn't even noticed him move away from the window, but she knew he had done so only to get her attention. His frown told her that he didn't approve of her feelings of sympathy for Touko, but she decided she didn't care. "Touko," she said gently. Amon's fingers dug into Robin's shoulder painfully. "There's an extra seat at the table, if you want to sit down."

Touko's head snapped up at Robin's offer, her expression a mixture of shock, relief and shame. "Thank you, Robin," Touko said, her voice breaking on Robin's name. "But I'm not sure if I'm welcome to stay." She avoided looking at Amon, but it was obvious he was the reason for her reluctance. Then, bowing deeply, she choked out, "Before I am asked to leave, I wanted to say that I'm sorry… for everything."

All eyes had shifted to Amon. Slowly, he released his death grip on Robin's shoulder and sat down in the empty chair next to her. "Have a seat," he said frostily, as if his decision had been forced. "We still have questions to ask you."

Touko finally straightened from her bow and approached the table slowly, her eyes still downcast. She sat down between Sakaki and Dante, her hands clasped so tightly on her lap that her knuckles were white.

Amon shifted his attention to Trish. "Let's start at the beginning. How did the Factory capture you? From our experience, orbo doesn't have much effect on demons."

Her arms folded over her chest, Trish glanced at Touko before answering, "According to Touko, her father's been working on a new formula designed to kill demons. That's what they used on me, and believe me, it worked." She paused for effect before continuing, "Fortunately for me though, the effect was only temporary."

"What exactly are you saying?" Amon asked skeptically. "That you were dead?"

Shrugging, Trish answered, "It was my first time being dead, so it's not like I have a lot of experience to compare it with, but it certainly felt like death."

"Why would they take you back to this Factory place if they thought you were dead?" Dante asked.

"They wanted to run tests on her," Touko said softly, still looking at her hands.

"I woke up in some lab after that," Trish continued. "I was really disoriented at first, but I felt pretty good, all things considered. Then, when they finally noticed I wasn't as dead as they thought I was, they tried using the orbo on me again. It felt… unbelievable… ridiculously good. I felt stronger than I've ever felt before—like I could take on the world without breaking a sweat."

"And Beatrice just experienced the same feeling," Robin commented dejectedly.

"Zaizen used the new orbo on Beatrice," Amon concluded.

"He said he was going to kill her." Touko's voice was faint, and her shoulders hunched as she spoke, as if she regretted saying the words aloud.

"But this wonder orbo will do the opposite," Trish said with a sigh. "It will make her wildly, crazy powerful."

"But wait," Sakaki countered, "you just got a dose of the stuff too. You should be just as leveled-up as she is, right?"

"Beatrice was powerful to start with," Trish replied. "I'm no weakling, but I couldn't match her power before."

"And now she has access to the source," Dante pointed out. "You should have stuffed some extra miracle jelly in your pockets on your way out, Trish."

Trish rolled her eyes. "I was a little more concerned with getting the hell out of there in one piece so I could warn all of you. Besides, who knows what prolonged exposure to the stuff would do?"

"I don't know, but you could have a least brought back a little to share," Dante retorted.

"I didn't know what kind of effect the orbo would have on a half-demon; I was kind of hoping Beatrice would just stay dead. I wasn't about to test it on you without knowing."

"Easy to say that now."

Shaking her head at Dante, Trish said with a smirk, "You just can't stand the thought that I might be more powerful than you, can you?" Dante scoffed in response. "Don't worry," Trish added suggestively. "I'll let you lick my clothes off later if you're a good boy." Robin found herself blushing, a mental image drawing itself in her mind, provoked by the emotions emanating from Dante.

Putting a stop to their banter with an edge of annoyance in his voice, Amon said, "If the condition that felt like death was only temporary, perhaps the enhanced powers are also temporary."

"I have no idea," Trish admitted.

"And we don't have any way to test it," Dante added.

"The new orbo is an unpredictable variable," Amon mused. "We know too little about it to be of much use. At this point, I don't know how our plans could be improved by taking it into account." He paused, focusing on Touko out of the corner of his eyes, his lips pursed. "Unless you have more concrete information to add, Touko."

Looking up at him uncertainly, Touko answered slowly, "My father didn't share anything important with me. I only know what I know because I overheard a few telephone conversations."

Amon didn't blink as he glared at her coldly. "Why were you so eager to leave the Factory? You were safe there… from Beatrice." His pause implied that Beatrice wasn't the only one who was a danger to Touko, and Robin frowned at his blatant threat.

Touko swallowed. "I hated it there. He said he brought me there to keep me safe, but I felt more like a prisoner in that place. And… I thought he was being foolish." She looked away, her expression sad. "He puts too much confidence in orbo." Robin still hadn't completely wrapped her mind around Touko's relation to Zaizen, but the way Touko was talking about him now made Robin realize that Touko was worried for Zaizen's safety. It was a perfectly understandable emotion, she supposed. Zaizen, though he was a monster in Robin's eyes, was still Touko's father, and no matter what their personal differences were, they still shared that bond.

"Weren't you concerned about Beatrice?" Doujima asked, her voice sharp. "She _did_ control you before, didn't she?"

"Of course I was concerned," Touko answered quickly. "But I don't think Beatrice has a reason to use me now."

"And why is that?" Amon's tone was frigid, and Robin shivered at the raw emotion he was repressing from his voice. She didn't like the way Amon was purposely pouring salt in Touko's wounds.

"I don't think you need me to explain, Amon," Touko said with a hint of resentment. Apparently she still had a little pride left, even after everything that had happened.

"I still don't understand why you wanted to leave the Factory so badly that you were willing to take such risk," Doujima said accusatorily.

Touko glanced at her and took a deep breath before answering. "I was afraid my father would find a way to use me if I stayed." A flood of empathy washed over Robin. She had seen Zaizen at his worst, but she had hoped that Touko had not. If Touko had expected her father to use her, then she likely knew exactly what he was capable of doing. Touko continued slowly, "I took the risk because I didn't want to be used by him any more than by Beatrice."

"Did he have plans to use you?" Amon demanded.

"Not that he shared with me."

"Then why did you think he would use you?"

"Do you even need to ask that question, Amon? Anyone who knows my father knows that he will use anyone if they give him the chance." Touko's submissive, apologetic behavior was quickly turning into defensive anger. Though Robin knew Amon would see Touko's reaction as dubious, she still didn't see anything wrong with it. Amon was ruthlessly interrogating her, and that was enough to get anyone's back up, even when they didn't have a history with him.

"I have a hard time believing you would risk his anger by attempting escape because of nothing more than a passing concern that he might use you." Amon's anger was slipping past his detached mask.

"Then don't believe it, but I have no other explanation to give you." Touko looked very much like she wanted to cry, but was holding back the urge with pure force of will.

"Listen," Trish interrupted suddenly, "anyone with half a brain could understand why she'd want to escape that place. Have any of you ever even been there?"

"No," Amon answered reluctantly.

"Then don't judge," Trish snapped.

"It's all right," Touko said quietly, suddenly submissive again. "He has every right to judge me." Raising her wrists in front of her, palm up, she said, "If you are so concerned that I came here on a mission from Beatrice, then tie me up until this is over. Lock me in a cage and throw away the key. I won't complain. I have no desire to be used again."

An uncomfortable silence fell, and Robin searched for something to say. She wanted to speak up, wanted to somehow ease the tension and keep Amon from making the decision she could feel him considering. But she didn't have the words to do any of those things. Glancing helplessly at her companions, she was relieved to find pity on most of their faces. Even Doujima, who had never really gotten along with Touko, seemed to feel sorry for her. Amon was the only one whose expression hadn't changed. "There are holding cells at the STN-J—" he began, but was quickly interrupted by a cacophony of voices all speaking at the same time.

"This is ridiculous!"

"We couldn't take her _there_."

"Geez, you really are an unreasonable asshole."

"What good would that do?"

"I'm not backing down on this," Amon said firmly, silencing the others as he looked slowly around the room at each of them in turn. "We only have a few hours left before this mess is over, and however it turns out she will be safer at the STN-J. Whether or not we believe her claims of innocence is irrelevant. If she is willing to give up her freedom until this is over, I don't see the point of taking the risk and letting her go free."

"Amon," Robin said, finally speaking up. "I don't think—"

But Amon wouldn't even let her finish. "No, Robin. My decision is made." _But the decision isn't yours alone, _she thought angrily.

"What about the Director?" Sakaki asked. "If we take her to the office, he'll find out. He'll probably think we kidnapped her from the Factory or something."

Amon's eyes narrowed. "The Director has his hands full at the moment. We will deal with the consequences, whatever they may be, after this is over." Amon rose to his feet with a sense of finality. "I'm heading back to the office now to go over the plan with Michael and Karasuma. I'll see all of you at the meeting point in an hour."

"What about Touko?" Robin asked, already expecting his answer.

Amon's eyes had a ferocity in them that made Robin nervous; she had a sickening premonition that he might take out some of his emotional turmoil on Touko. "I'm taking her with me."

"Alone?" Dante asked, and Robin could feel his temper flaring. Standing up as well, he said, "No way in hell. If you're so concerned about the possible danger she presents, then don't you think you should have backup?" Robin could tell from his emotional undertone that Dante was also worried about more than Amon's safety.

"Fine," Amon bit off, glaring at Dante in annoyance. Amon circled the table to Touko's seat and pulled her to her feet with a firm grip on her arm. Touko did not react, an expression of resignation on her face.

Dante scowled at Amon's back before moving to follow them, pausing when Robin caught his sleeve. "Dante," she murmured, but she didn't even have to voice her worry.

"I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." Dante smiled, patting her gently on the head.

Robin watched them leave, relieved that Dante had forced his company on Amon so she wouldn't have to; Amon was teetering at the edge of his control right now, and he needed someone to keep him in check before he did something he would regret. Touko was far too easy a target for Amon's anger at the moment, and Robin suspected Touko would simply let him take his frustration out on her because of her guilt. But no one deserved Amon's verbal and emotional abuse—no one except perhaps Zaizen. She thought Dante could probably deflect most of Amon's anger—or at least redirect it—well enough to shield Touko, and that thought eased her mind. At least she didn't have to worry for his safety either.

Trish sighed deeply when they were gone. "So, who wants to go weapons shopping with me again?"

"Ooo! Pick me!" Sakaki cried.

"Eager to do some research?" Doujima asked him skeptically.

"I don't start a new game when I'm still addicted to the old one," Sakaki reassured her.

"Then go. Robin and I will hold down the fort." Turning to look at Robin when they were alone, Doujima said conspiratorially, "You look like you could use some chocolate, Robin. Or maybe something a little stronger."

"I'm fine, Doujima," Robin said wearily. The growing physical distance between her and Amon and Dante was relieving the emotional onslaught somewhat, but the exhaustion left in its wake was substantial.

Doujima was unconvinced. "Hmm… Have you ever heard of a chocolate martini, Robin?"

----------

The car barreled down the highway, silent as a morgue and probably colder.

Dante was sprawled comfortably in the backseat, keeping an eye on the driver as much as the other passenger. Amon's face was set like granite and Touko's expression was weary acceptance, but they were both tense. The air was heavy with unspoken feelings—half of which Dante was attempting to avoid experiencing directly—and he had a nearly uncontrollable urge to say or do something incredibly inappropriate simply to change the dynamic. He could still feel Robin's worry distantly and knew she was counting on him to mediate between Amon's anger and Touko's guilt, but unfortunately, he didn't have a clue how to accomplish such a thing. Emotional situations had never been his strength, and Amon's emotions were less predictable than most.

Touko shifted in her seat, glancing at Amon furtively. Dante had to admit he felt sorry for the woman. He knew little about her, but from what little he did know, she had the unhappy misfortune of not only falling for an asshole like Amon, but also managing to royally piss him off. Frankly, Dante had a difficult time understanding what anyone would see in Amon romantically, but it was obvious Touko had issues of her own, her relationship with Amon notwithstanding.

The urge to say something tactless was growing in strength with every passing moment of silence, and finally Dante decided to give in to the impulse. He knew his methods of dealing with a sulky Amon were juvenile compared to Robin's, but he knew of no other way to get the man's attention. "So," Dante said, rolling the word around his tongue. "How'd you two hook up, anyway?" The tension in the car magnified to a place hovering just over the breaking point. Dante smiled, knowing his amusement was only provoking Amon further. Amon shot him a look in the rear view mirror that was murderous. Dante's grin widened. "No, really. I'm curious. What was it? Company Christmas party? Blind date? Mutual friends?"

"If you're that eager to die," Amon said crisply, "you could have saved yourself the pain and let Beatrice kill you gently."

"Oh, sorry. Was that too personal? I guess I just feel like we've gotten so close over the last few hours that I can ask you anything. I mean, I really feel like we're forming a bond. You know what I mean, buddy? You don't mind if I call you that, do you? Buddy?"

Amon didn't respond this time, but Dante could feel the fury rolling off of him in waves. Dante glanced at Touko who seemed stunned, her eyes wide as she looked at Amon. Dante could only assume he'd lost his mind. He had no idea what Amon would do if he was pushed beyond the edge of his restraint, but he imagined it would be unpleasant. And yet, he couldn't shut his mouth. Leaning forward in his seat, Dante looked up at Touko with a smile. "Can you feel it?"

Touko looked terrified. "Feel what?"

"The love in this car." The car squealed around a sharp corner and Dante had to grip the back of the seats in front of him to keep his balance. "Woah. Watch it there, buddy." Patting Amon good naturedly on the shoulder, Dante added, "Driving like that isn't safe."

Amon didn't say a word, glowering at the road ahead furiously. Dante's instincts were screaming danger with a capital "d," but a half-formed plan was coalescing in the back of his mind, and he decided it was worth a shot since it was the only one he had at the moment. "I'm not in the way here, am I?" he asked with feigned concern. "I mean, I know there's some personal history between the two of you, and I don't know how you feel about ménage a trios, but—"

The car squealed around another corner and into the underground garage below the STN-J. Dante braced himself to keep from flying through the windshield when Amon slammed on the brakes.

"Get out," Amon barked, nearly shaking with anger.

"Whatever you say, buddy."

Dante climbed out of the car nonchalantly, expecting the violence long before it happened. Amon grabbed the front of his jacket and shoved him back against the brick wall, glaring at him fiercely from a few inches away. Dante returned the livid expression with an unconcerned smirk. He glanced at Touko out of the corner of his eye; she was hovering on the other side of the car, watching them in horror. "What are you waiting for?" Dante whispered, the rest of his plan suddenly crystallizing in his mind. "Go ahead. Hit me."

"Why are you doing this?" Amon hissed.

Dante chuckled. _Good question. Unfortunately, I have a really stupid answer._ "Come on. You know this has been coming since the moment we met. So let's get it over with. Hit me."

Amon's anger exploded in Dante's mind, paralyzing him for a moment. Then, Amon threw the first punch; he saw it coming and it took effort to repress his instinct to dodge, but repress it he did, taking the hit directly in the jaw. Another punch hit his gut and he found himself laughing. What a stupid idea that was. Amon's rage took on a mindless edge and Dante took Amon's blows silently then, wondering when exactly he had decided to become Amon's punching bag. It was so far out of his character that he knew intuitively he wouldn't have let it happen if he hadn't let Robin worries get under his skin. Her penchant for self-sacrifice was starting to rub off on him, and that was one habit he had never dreamed he might pick up.

"Stop!" Touko cried frantically. "Amon! Stop it!"

Dante saw her approaching and cursed. He should have seen that coming. She snatched at Amon's coat to pull him away, but Amon reacted instinctively by shoving her back hard. She skidded against the pavement when she fell, and Dante determined this game had gone on long enough. He blocked Amon's next attack effortlessly and then landed a couple punches of his own, causing Amon to stumble backwards. He hadn't been gentle, but he hoped he had held back enough to keep from injuring Amon too badly; Dante's strength was enhanced by his demon ancestry, a fact he had to constantly keep in mind when dealing with normal humans. Luckily, the shock of Dante's retaliation seemed to be enough to knock Amon back to his senses because Dante could feel Amon's temper finally beginning to cool.

In the end, Dante's plan had backfired somewhat, but at least it had allowed Amon to get most of his aggression out of his system before he took it out on Touko—or anyone else. Wiping blood off his chin, Dante demanded, "Are we all better now?" Amon didn't answer, still doubled over and panting for breath, his face hidden by dark waves of hair. Dante reached out a hand to help Touko stand up. She accepted it with only a little hesitation, looking at him wordlessly when she was on her feet, her mouth parted and questions clouding her eyes. "You okay?" he asked.

"I… think so." She was looking at him as if she thought he was insane, which he probably was.

Amon straightened finally, and Dante was relieved to see his jaw was still intact, though his lower lip was covered in blood. Amon's emotions were too muddled for Dante to make much sense of them, but at least they no longer had anything to do with Touko. He might not have stopped Amon from doing something stupid, as he had promised Robin he would do, but he had managed to keep him from doing something stupid to the wrong person. "Come on," Dante said, putting an arm around Touko's shoulders and snagging Amon's upper arm firmly as he led them toward the elevator. "Let's go."

Their ride up the elevator was as silent as their ride in the car had started out, but the tension had eased considerably. Progress had been made. The elevator came to a stop at the third floor and the door opened on a bland hallway lined with sturdy looking doors. Amon marched down the hallway without looking back, and Dante motioned Touko ahead of him as they followed. Coming to a stop halfway down the hall, Amon turned to a door and pulled open a keypad next to it. He punched in a code and the door clicked.

Amon turned to look at them as he pulled open the door slowly, revealing a small grey cube of a room. "This is it," he said coldly, gesturing for Touko to enter. Dante leaned back against the wall across from the door, crossing his arms over his chest. He had no intention of interfering any further.

Touko glanced briefly at Dante before approaching the entrance to the room. Pausing at the door, she looked up at Amon, her expression indescribably sad. "Amon… I just wanted to say again that I never meant to hurt you or Robin." She looked down as she added, "I'm so sorry."

"I will give Michael the access code to the door in case we fail our mission tonight and don't return," Amon said without even acknowledging her apology.

She nodded in response, sighing as she sat down on the bench inside the room. "I understand."

Amon swung the door closed without another word, punching more numbers into the keypad until the door clicked again. Turning around slowly, he looked up at Dante with a mess of emotion crawling across his face. "Why did you do that?" he demanded softly. Dante knew immediately he was talking about the fight.

Dante shrugged. "Hell if I know. It just felt right."

"It felt right to let me beat you up?"

"Hey, I was asking for it."

"Why?" Amon's eyes were focused icily on Dante.

Dante sighed, shaking his head. "You were going to explode at some point, and I would have much rather had you explode on me than the woman in that cell."

Dante felt Amon's flash of pain at his words. "I wouldn't have—"

Dante pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and started walking down the hallway, "I didn't want to take the chance." He smirked. "Besides, it gave me a reason to hit you back. And that felt damn good."

"You were never concerned that Touko would be a threat, were you?" Amon observed, his shoes clicking on the polished floor as he followed Dante toward the elevator.

"Not a bit."

"You came along as backup for her, not me."

"Right again." Dante stepped onto the elevator, turning back to look at Amon. "Be honest. Do you really think she's still being controlled by Beatrice?"

"I don't know." Amon looked out through the glass wall pensively as the elevator made its way toward the fifth floor. "But I am not willing to risk Robin's safety to find out."

----------

Shifting in his chair, Michael grimaced as his movement aggravated one of his bruises. It was difficult to move at all without causing himself pain, but he was starting to get used to it.

"Are you doing okay, Michael?" Karasuma asked, and Michael rolled his eyes. Ever since she had shown up at the office, she had been hovering over him like a mother hen. He appreciated her concern, but he didn't need a nurse.

"I'm fine," he snapped, the edge in his voice sharper than he had intended. She had managed to ignore his bad temper so far, but he wondered how much more she would take before she snapped back at him. He hoped she just stopped talking to him before they reached that point, because he honestly didn't think he could control his tone.

"How's it coming with the computer?"

"I'm almost done," he answered, accessing the code for the program he had just finished installing on Amon's computer and modifying it slightly. He had relocated to Amon's desk this morning; he needed a new computer, after all, and Amon's computer was just sitting there unused. Of course, Karasuma's computer was the only other one actually in use at the moment, but Michael found a strange satisfaction in commandeering Amon's computer. The first thing he had done was search Amon's files for anything interesting, but Amon was as secretive in his computer usage as he was in conversation, it seemed. Still, he just knew he was bound to come across something out of the ordinary eventually.

"I'm going to get some coffee," Karasuma announced, pausing next to his desk with her empty cup in hand. "Do you need anything?"

"I could use some more painkillers," Michael said without looking up at her, absently scratching at the edge of the bandage on his arm. He glanced down at it, annoyed—not for the first time—with the pink ribbon Doujima had used to tie it off.

"Okay," she replied, motherly concern gushing through her voice. Michael cringed. "I'll be right back."

Michael watched her cross the room, frowning at her arm sling. They were a couple of sad cases, to be sure. "Oh, and Karasuma-san," he said, feeling a little guilty for the way she was waiting on him when she was injured as well. "Could you grab me a Blendy while you're in there?"

"Sure."

Returning his attention to the computer, Michael entered a few more lines of code into the program before closing it and leaning back in his chair with a sigh. He instantly regretted his action as he remembered a few other bruises on his back he had forgotten until that moment. Sighing in self-pity, Michael wondered if there was any place left on his body that wasn't bruised or burnt. He was religiously avoiding thinking about any of the emotional complications involved with his injuries; he just wanted to live in denial for a little longer. The angst could wait. His eyes closing involuntarily, he realized just how tired he really was and slumped in his chair.

"Maybe you should lay down for awhile, Michael," Karasuma suggested quietly.

He opened his eyes to find her standing next to his desk. Shaking his head slightly to clear it, he answered quickly, "No, I'm fine. Thanks, Karasuma-san."

She placed a frosty plastic bottle on his desk along with a couple red and yellow pills. "When did you start drinking these?" she asked, gesturing to the cold coffee and milk drink.

"Since Doujima left one in the refrigerator." Twisting open the cap on the coffee drink and popping the pills in his mouth, Michael swallowed the medicine quickly. He hated taking pills with a passion, but today the annoyance was worth it. Looking up at her and feeling mildly guilty for the way he had been treating her since she showed up, he asked, "How is your arm feeling?"

Karasuma smiled, though the expression seemed forced. "Better."

"Maybe Amon will let you go on the hunt tonight, after all."

Shaking her head, Karasuma returned to her desk with her steaming cup of coffee. "I don't think so. I hate being left behind like a wounded bird, but it can't be helped." She took a sip of her coffee before adding, "I wouldn't be much help to them tonight." Michael nodded silently, wondering if he would be any more help tonight than she could be, but, not liking where his thoughts were taking him, he quickly resolved not to think about it any further.

Looking back at his new computer, he decided it was as ready as it was going to be for the hunt. Searching for the program he had installed and double clicking on the icon, he slid his headphones into his ears and smiled as the outdated graphics and synthesized music of his favorite game filled the screen. It was an old game—and a long way from being the best game ever made—but he had an attachment to it. His attachment probably had something to do with the fact that it was the last game he had played on the outside—before Zaizen had brought him into the STN-J on a leash.

Glancing at Karasuma over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't watching, he brought up the character selection screen. He scrolled through his saved characters and decided to go with "WiTcHkilla," a slender woman with an uncanny resemblance to Robin. He had made some major modifications to the skins to create one that looked anything like her, but he was rather proud of the final result. She was wearing a black halter top and pants similar to the uniform Robin had worn when she and Doujima worked undercover at Harry's, and he knew that if Amon ever saw her on his computer, Michael would have more than bruises to worry about. That was why he had gone to the trouble of creating a web of password protections for the game in case Amon ever tried to regain possession of his computer.

Michael switched view modes so that only the character's hand and gun would be visible and then loaded a saved game. He scrolled through his artillery and settled on the flak gun; he felt like doing as much damage as possible. He heard a series of soft, alien grunts on his right so he crept up to the corner of a crate and strafed around it, showering the alien on the other side with shrapnel. Picking up a health pack as he trotted down the corridor, he headed toward the small pool he knew was just outside the doors. Michael heard the sound of gunfire behind him and spun his character around just in time to dodge a rocket. The alien behind him fired its rocket launcher again and Michael rolled behind another crate. Switching to his razor jack gun, he waited for another rocket to whiz by before he strafed out into the open and fired a series of razors at the alien's neck. The third spinning razor hit the alien perfectly, severing its head from its body. It dropped the rocket launcher to the ground and felt around for its missing head for a moment before falling to its knees and slumping over.

Grinning, Michael leaned back in his chair again, but his grin quickly turned into a grimace as he remembered the aches and pains he had only just managed to forget. Sitting up straight again, he heard the sound of a waterfall beckoning him as his character crept around a cliff. The waterfall was crashing into the pool he had been looking for. He knew there was an underwater entrance in the pool that would lead to the temple marking the next level, but first, he needed to kill all the lizard people lurking in the water. He dove into the pool and switched to the harpoon gun. A little saddened by the fact that he couldn't switch views to watch the Robin-look-alike swim through the water, Michael began searching the pond for the elusive lizard people.

A splash and the sluggish sound of darts being fired underwater made Michael look above him. He targeted the lizard and fired off a few shots, swimming past the blood in the water to get a better view. The underwater entrance was in sight, and not a minute too late because his character was quickly running out of air. He swam directly for the entrance, dodging fire from another lizard. He was at the opening and crawling into the open cave inside when Karasuma's voice startled him.

"Oh my god," she cried in alarm, and his first instinct was that she had caught him playing the game and been disgusted by it. But then he looked up to see Amon and Dante walking through the door, both of them looking as if they had just come from a fight. Their hair was tousled and their clothes rumpled and dirty. Blood was drying on Amon's lower lip and a Dante was bleeding from a cut across his cheekbone. "What happened to the two of you?" Karasuma demanded.

Michael immediately minimized his game, pulling out his earphones so he could hear every word. His fear quickly faded though when he noticed that neither of them seemed particularly worried.

Dante shrugged. "We decided to play gladiator in the basement. We're over it now."

Raising an eyebrow, Karasuma opened her mouth to respond but closed it a few moments without saying a word.

Amon shot Dante a glare, but then said, "We came here to brief you both on the hunt tonight, but a lot has happened since you left Harry's, Karasuma. First and foremost of which being that we brought Touko here with us. She's in a holding cell on the third floor."

Karasuma's eyes widened and Michael panicked for a moment, pulling up the building logs. Out of curiosity, he brought up the video recordings from the basement first and had to bite his lip to keep from reacting to the footage of Amon punching Dante in the gut. "I assume you want me to take care of the recordings," Michael said, struggling to keep his voice even as he continued watching the footage.

Michael felt Amon's eyes on him and glanced up, surprised to see the anguished expression on the dark hunter's features. "Yes, Michael," he said finally, looking away. "I didn't see any cars other than yours in the basement," he continued, turning his attention to Karasuma. "Am I right to assume everyone else has gone home for the day?"

"Yes," Karasuma answered, her voice a little weak. "The Chief and Hattori left about an hour ago. We haven't seen the Director all day."

Michael had moved on to the footage on the third floor, cringing when he saw Touko walking off the elevator. Fast forwarding to the point where Amon closed the cell door behind him, Michael breathed a sigh of relief. The door had not opened since.

"That's the other thing I need to talk to you about," Amon said. "Zaizen has decided to attack Beatrice head on with a new, experimental kind of orbo."

"What?" Karasuma gasped. "That's insane. Do you think it will work?"

"It's already failed."

Michael looked up again, picking up on the unsaid implications of Amon's words. Could he even dare to hope that Zaizen was dead? "Is he…?" Michael began, unable to even say the word.

Amon's gaze shifted to him again, but his frown had deepened. Michael's shoulders slumped. "We don't know."

"When you say it failed," Karasuma said slowly, "I get the impression there's more to it."

"There is," Dante said sourly, perching on the edge of Karasuma's desk, his arms crossed over his chest. "If you thought she was a tough bitch before, wait till you see her on steroids."

"From what we can tell," Amon explained, "the orbo has the short term effect of incapacitating the demon, but it has the long term effect of strengthening the demon's powers incalculably."

Michael glanced at the game minimized in the task bar of his computer, feeling frustrated. The odds had just shifted in Beatrice's favor again, and he was still just as useless.

----------

"What fools," Beatrice exclaimed with a giggle. "What glorious fools." She surveyed the smoldering piles of embers marking where every wonderful fool who had stood before her power had burnt to a crisp. A misshapen shard of metal poked out of one of the piles near her and she nudged it with her foot, recognizing it as the distorted remains of a gun. A smile tugged at her lips. She didn't understand the magnificent substance they had tried to use to kill her, but whatever it was left her with the most wonderful afterglow. She felt stronger than she had in ages. Her master would be very pleased, indeed.

"My lady!" one of her servants called. "We found one of them trying to escape."

"Oh?" She turned to look at the man. His grey hair was disheveled and his distinguished features were twisted with panic.

"No!" the man cried. "We killed you! This can't be—"

Beatrice smiled. "Another sacrifice for the master. Tie him up and cage him with the others until we're ready."

"You bitch!" the man screamed. "You won't get away with this. You're a perversion of nature. You don't deserve even to be alive! You, and all the witches, you---"

"And gag him, would you?" Beatrice interrupted. "He talks too much."

**It all started out with sweaty hands. Please forgive me… It was a random thing and I almost just took it out because it's a little goofy, but I couldn't bring myself to delete it for some reason. One of my friends actually told me about the sweaty hands evolution thing, and I really don't buy it, but I thought it was an interesting thought anyway. So, Touko's scene was my first attempt to get to the confrontation scene. Obviously it failed—but I like the bond she formed with Trish (and now Trish has the info on Amon).**

**The second attempt to write the confrontation scene was Doujima's hormonal scene. Obviously, it failed. (Sakaki's game reference of the day: Katamari Damacy. If you have a PS2 and haven't picked up this game, you should. It's really cheap and a lot of fun. It involves rolling a sticky ball around and picking up various objects. Eventually, if you get the ball big enough, you can roll up people and they scream. It's awesome. Truly bizarre, but awesome. And it has great music too.) Yeah, I really enjoyed this scene because… well… Dante's one hot mofo. Sadly, he knows it too.**

**Attempt number three actually worked (I think), especially because it allowed me to show Amon's feelings as well as Robin's. I think part of the reason it ended up being so hard to write was because a) it's been so long since I've written this much on this story and b) it's been even longer since Touko's interacted with any of the other characters. Hopefully I didn't make the emotional mood swings too extreme, but I think Amon's reaction is believable. All hail the return of Amon the Ass (he never stays away for long). **

**Then we have the Amon-Dante smackdown. Yeah. Totally didn't see it coming, but when you think about it, don't you think it's about damn time those two actually duked it out? Of course, I think I made Dante a little too saintly (though he does acknowledge how out of character his actions are—coughcoughwritercopoutcoughcough). Highlander fans out there might notice a resemblance to Methos in Dante's sarcasm. I can't help thinking of the episode from the last season of Highlander when Methos finds out Joe has a daughter and keeps calling him dad. He also refers to him as "buddy" which is probably much funnier because he has a British accent. Anyway, hope Amon didn't come across as a big fat jerk. He _is_ under a lot of stress, you know…**

**Last, but not least, the promised Michael scene. I'm starting to feel really sorry for poor lonely, abused Michael. That's why I let him play my video game.  Yeah, so the first game I ever played on the PC was Unreal Tournament. It came free with my super awesome Voodoo3 video card and I was instantly addicted. I still get nostalgic for that game occasionally because it helped me through some hard times with stupid roommates and such. I sort of modified it for the story, but in my heart, Unreal was the game I was thinking of. And yes, you really can decapitate aliens with the razor jack. Sorry for all the violence… Oh, and as for the Blendy… You might recall my addiction to Frappuccinos? Well, I found a decent equivalent in Japan called a "Blendy." Mmmmm…**

**Oh, and then one last scene… Beatrice is going to use Zaizen as a human sacrifice. Yay!**

**Well, that's it for now, kids. I hope I managed to respond to everyone's review! Don't know if I'll get the next chapter posted in a week like I did this time. I don't want to burn myself out again and I'm going to have a busy week this week, so it might be a bit longer. I promise I won't take too long, though.**


	28. Where It's At

**Author's Note: **

**Readers beware: writer was hormonal when she wrote this chapter. (But I think you'll like it.)**

**I also included a random cameo from another anime, but it's pretty brief and unimportant—though cute—so it doesn't matter if you catch the reference or not. I couldn't help myself because I stole the location in the first scene from their story. The complete off-the-wall-ness of the setting was the catalyst I needed to start writing, so I thought I owed the characters something for the inspiration.**

**Chapter 28**

**Where It's At**

"This is some meeting point," Trish commented to Sakaki as he pulled his bike to a stop next to her.

Taking off his helmet and shaking out his hair, Sakaki said with a smirk, "Amon has a knack for finding obscure locations like this."

"We don't exactly blend in here though, do we?" Climbing off Dante's bike, she surveyed the park with a frown. The sign on the gate read "Penguin Park," and most of the playground equipment followed the theme, the centerpiece of which was a large, plump penguin with a crown on its head. Stairs climbed up its back and an opening led through the beak to a slide. "How quaint."

Approaching the swings where Robin and Doujima were waiting for them, Trish noted that Robin's eyes seemed a bit glazed and her cheeks were slightly flushed. Doujima was sitting on the swing next to her, swinging in a slow, shallow arc and kicking her feet lightly against the cedar chips carpeting the ground. Robin, on the other hand, was keeping her own swing carefully still.

"Grab a swing," Doujima offered when she saw them. "Want to race? I bet I can swing higher!"

"That is so childish," Sakaki scoffed.

"Look who's talking," Doujima said, her eyes narrowed as she skidded to a stop, her heels digging into the ground.

"I take it the boys aren't here yet?" Trish asked, leaning back against one of the metal poles supporting the swings and crossing her arms.

"Not yet," Robin replied without looking at her, a complacent expression on her face. She was focused on some object on the other side of the park, but when Trish followed her gaze she didn't find anything of interest.

"Are you okay, Robin?" Trish asked, glancing at Doujima who was once again swinging slowly.

Looking up at her with a larger smile than Trish had ever seen her make, Robin replied, "I'm fine." She blinked slowly before shifting her focus again to the ground in front of her, taking a deep breath. The fact that Robin was not "fine" exactly was fairly obvious, but Trish didn't think she had anything wrong enough with her to cause concern. If she didn't know better, she might have thought Robin was a little buzzed, but considering Robin's timid personality that didn't seem very likely.

"Hey!" Doujima cried suddenly, and Trish glanced at her in time to see Sakaki shove her swing hard from behind. "Stop it, Haruto!" He shoved her again and she leapt out of the swing, landing on the ground in an awkward stumble. Leaning against a penguin shaped drinking fountain, she glared back at Sakaki and groaned. Reaching down to rub the top of her foot, she whined, "You made me land wrong, you idiot."

Sakaki shrugged. "I didn't tell you to jump."

"Children," Trish admonished in a weary voice, "I know this is a playground, but let's cut the play for the moment, okay?" Doujima and Sakaki flirted even more than Trish flirted with Dante, and though she had found their antics to be endearing originally, they were starting to grate on her nerves. The afterglow of her resurrection had faded somewhat and the realization that she had probably died today was sinking in. Her mood wasn't improved by the knowledge that she might get the opportunity to die a second time if she wasn't careful.

Blinking blearily at the road curving around the park, Robin announced suddenly, "They're here." Trish turned to see a speck of a car in the distance. She knew for a fact that Robin couldn't have better eyesight than hers, so she assumed Robin had felt them coming before she saw them.

Suppressing a shiver, Trish watched Amon's car as it drew closer and tried not to think about the spark of jealousy burning inside of her. Dante had been the first being in her life to show her kindness without a motive. He had been her first encounter with human blood that hadn't left her with a feeling of disgust and disappointment, and he had been the first man to attract her with such undeniable intensity. She had developed an attachment to him, and though she knew he was not the kind of man to be pinned down by vows and commitments, part of her wanted that assurance of her claim on him.

Though she knew his relationship with Robin was purely platonic, the thought of someone else having a closer connection to him than she could ever have was maddening. She couldn't blame Robin, or anyone really—except perhaps Beatrice—and she knew she was being extremely selfish to be jealous of Robin's link with Dante when it was something that had been forced upon them both. She knew all the facts, and all the reasons why she shouldn't feel the way she did, and yet the feelings lingered. _This is what it means to be human._ She didn't have a drop of human blood in her veins, but she had still managed to develop human emotions over the years—perhaps the only upside to this form Mundus had given her. It was both a blessing and a curse.

The car stopped at the gate of the park and the passenger door opened. Dante climbed out, shoving the door shut behind him with more force than was necessary. He shook his head as he walked toward them, his hands in his pockets. Amon did not make a move to exit the car, and Trish could hear the motor still humming quietly; it seemed that he was being even more antisocial than usual.

"This park is pretty sweet. Anyone up for a game of tag football?" Dante asked with a strained grin, but all Trish could see was the half-healed cut on his cheek. Sweeping her eyes over his clothes, Trish found other signs of a fight in the rip in his sleeve and the disheveled state of his hair—even messier than usual.

"Looks like you already played a game or two," Trish said with forced nonchalance, uncrossing her arms and reaching up to tame his tangled locks with her fingers. "What happened?"

Leaning his head back to pull his hair out of her grasp, Dante avoided her question. Glancing at Robin, he said, "Amon's waiting for you in the car, kiddo." Trish made note of the fact that Dante had called Amon by his real name before shifting her focus to Robin. The craft-user clutched at the chains suspending her swing as she rose cautiously. She didn't sway on her feet, but she didn't seem entirely steady either. Dante grasped her arm gently when she walked past. "You okay, babe?"

Robin looked up at him, her eyes still slightly unfocused. She smiled in that uncharacteristically open way again and Trish saw Dante tense a little. "Mmm-hmm," she answered. Then, her expression sobering somewhat, she asked quietly, "Is Touko all right?"

"She's fine," Dante reassured her.

Noticing the rip in Dante's sleeve and tracing it lightly with a finger, she asked with a frown, "Were you attacked?"

Dante shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Is Amon hurt?"

"Nah."

She nodded, her expression introspective, but her gaze was still focused on the tear in his coat. "Was it Beatrice?"

Dante's grin slipped a little. "No." Trish raised an eyebrow at his complete lack of an explanation; his tone was lighthearted, but the traces of the fight were more serious than his tone suggested.

Robin looked up at him, her expression very solemn now. "If it wasn't Beatrice, then…"

"It's nothing to worry about," Dante said dismissively, releasing his light grip on her arm. "But you should probably get in Amon's car before he runs out of gas. Something tells me he wouldn't like hitchhiking. He probably doesn't even have a towel."

"Towel?" Robin repeated questioningly.

Smiling, Dante said, "Nothing. Just go on. I'll see you later."

Nodding again, Robin started walking toward Amon's car, her balance still more considered than seemed natural. When she was out of earshot, Trish grabbed the front of Dante's jacket to pull him toward her again. Brushing the dust off of it firmly, she demanded, "So, what happened exactly? Did you find some random fiends to play with?"

His smile twisting sourly, Dante took her ministrations with barely repressed annoyance. "I kicked over Amon's sand castle."

"Oh? So what happened to that understanding the two of you came to?" Dante didn't respond and Trish's eyes focused on his face again, but he was looking in the direction of Doujima and Sakaki. Watching the hunters as they exchanged a glance, she realized he was silently asking her to delay this conversation until they were alone.

"So that's why Amon didn't get out of the car," Doujima said, pouncing on the potential piece of gossip.

"Did you beat up Amon?" Sakaki added boldly, an eager expression on his face. "It's about time someone knocked some sense into him."

Sidestepping their comments, Dante said, "Amon wants the two of you to head for the lake. Get as close as you can to Beatrice's location without tipping her off. As soon as you see her beginning the ritual, contact him and the rest of us will take our positions."

Her lips pouting, Doujima asked, "How did we get stuck with the boring job?"

"Because Robin's presence will alert Beatrice if she gets that close, and the same goes for Amon and I because of our connection to Robin," Dante explained impatiently. He shifted his gaze to Amon's car as it took off and added, "You'd better get going if you don't want a lecture from Rambo."

Shaking his head, Sakaki muttered to Doujima, "I think Amon got to him."

Trish placed a hand on Dante's shoulder when she saw him tensing again, his lips pressing together into a thin line. She had to admit that he was acting far more serious than usual at the moment, and his sudden, strange respect for Amon was very out of character. "You have the guns, don't you, Sakaki?" she asked, quickly changing the topic.

Sakaki nodded. "Yeah. And the extra ammo."

"Good. Hopefully you won't need them, but you never know." Sakaki nodded again, but neither he nor Doujima made a move to leave. "Well, good luck," Trish said with a tight smile, leaning against Dante casually.

Doujima finally got the hint. "Okay… See you guys later," she sighed. "If we survive the boredom," she added under her breath as she headed for her car. Sakaki hurried to catch up, glancing back at Dante with a frown.

When they were gone, Dante released the breath he had been holding in an angry hiss. Taking a step away to get a better look at him, Trish raised an eyebrow. "So, why _did_ you get in Amon's sandbox?"

Dante glanced at her with narrowed eyes. "I don't expect you to understand, Trish."

"And why is that? Because this is one of those ultra male machismo situations that women just can't understand?"

"I'm not in the mood, Trish," he said with a shake of his head, turning halfway away from her. His body language had "stay the hell away" written all over it, but she had never been very good at doing the right thing.

Walking her fingers up his arm as she leaned toward him, she said, "Or will I not understand because you don't understand it yourself?"

Brushing her hand off his shoulder, he snapped, "I understand it just fine. Let it go."

"I just want to know _why_ you would just pick a fight with him, especially right now. And I don't think you're avoiding telling me because I can't understand. You just don't want me to understand."

"Yes, Trish, that's it," he said blandly. "You happy now?"

"Dante!" Trish growled, punching him lightly in the arm. She was surprised when he winced.

"Okay, fine! We fought like a couple of school kids on the playground. So what? It's been building up since the moment we met. At least he didn't lose his temper on someone else."

Trish gasped softly in comprehension. Someone else… They had fought over Touko. The twinge of jealousy she had been able to logically explain away but not entirely destroy twisted inside her chest. "I see." Suddenly she didn't feel like listening to any more. This was why he had been avoiding telling her the whole truth—but it had slipped out in the end anyway. Clenching her jaw, she stepped around him and began walking down the sidewalk toward his motorcycle, wishing she had her own vehicle and trying to ignore the temptation to simply leave him behind and go for a ride on her own.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

She kept her tone carefully casual. "We should probably find a place to wait closer to the lake, don't you think?" Though she knew she was being immature, she couldn't help making an effort to swing her hips a little more than usual.

"Uh-huh," he said flatly. "So, you're pissed at me now, aren't you?" She didn't respond, but a few steps later she was enveloped by the warmth of his arms as they wrapped around her in an almost painfully tight grip. He pulled her back against him and her heels lifted off the ground, his breath hot against the back of her neck. "Or are you just jealous?"

"Dante," she said coolly, digging at his forearms as they tightened around her waist.

He nipped lightly at her ear before commenting, "Besides, I thought you liked a little machismo now and then."

She groaned in half-frustration, half-delight. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to make up for something."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dante didn't ease his grip, but he pulled his lips away from her neck.

"You just can't help saving the damsel in distress, can you?" She regretted it as soon as she said it, knowing how pathetic the accusation made her sound.

Dante released her abruptly. "That's what pissed you off? Geez, Trish, you really are too jealous for your own good—or mine."

Standing there, mourning the loss of his warmth and closeness, Trish sighed softly but didn't say a word.

"What was I supposed to do? Let Rambo go apeshit on her? I thought you were worried about his treatment of her too."

"I was," she admitted, rubbing her arms where he had been gripping her moments ago. "Forget it. I'm just tired, I guess."

"Tired?" he echoed doubtfully, and she heard him take a step toward her.

"Yeah." She began walking toward the bike again, feeling foolish and frustrated with her very human emotions. She didn't know what she wanted from him anymore than he did, and she hated that fact.

Pausing beside the motorcycle, she turned back to look at him over her shoulder. His expression wasn't anger as she had expected. Instead, it was a riotous mixture of annoyance, worry and desire. Pinning her between the bike and him, a hand on the seat on either side of her, his voice dropped into that low tone that did things to her insides as he said, "When are you going to start trusting me?"

"I _do_ trust you," Trish said firmly, trying to keep her voice even despite the anticipation thrilling through her.

"You could have fooled me."

Unable to stop the smile spreading across her lips, she slid her hands around his neck slowly and pulled herself closer to him. "I trust you, but there are parts of you I don't have as much trust in," she purred, tilting her hips and grinding against him with a playful smile.

A dark smile crossed his features. "The same goes for you, sweetheart," he said in that deep rumble, moving one of his hands from the bike to the small of her back, fanning his fingers out over her spine as he pressed her closer.

Unable to stand the tension any longer, she clenched her fingers in his hair and attacked his lips with a fervor that she could tell surprised him by his initial unresponsiveness. He quickly fought back though, moaning into her mouth as she rocked her hips against him again. Trish pushed the kiss to the point of near suffocation, not allowing him to pull away until she was seeing lightning behind her eyelids and her head was spinning. His hand had wandered a bit lower during the kiss, but he didn't loosen his grip when their lips separated. They both panted for a few moments, and Trish buried her face against his neck, drinking in the rich, heady scent of his skin.

Chuckling darkly as he straightened, pulling her with him and lifting her feet off the ground again, he teased, "I thought you were tired, Trish."

"I didn't say what I was tired of, though, did I?" she replied, her eyes drifting shut as she relaxed her grip on his hair and sighed against his neck.

"What are you staring at, monster?" a young male voice said suddenly, and Trish glanced back over her shoulder to see a young girl on roller blades gaping at them with wide green eyes. A dark-haired boy on a bicycle paused beside her, thumping the girl lightly on the back of the head. She spun around to face him with a growl.

"Touya-nii!" she cried, attempting to hit him back but loosing her balance on her skates.

Her brother evaded the blow easily and caught her before she fell, but his grey eyes were now focused on Trish and Dante. His eyes widened as he looked at them, a wary expression on his face. Trish had the ridiculous sensation that his distrust was not simply based on their attire or obvious displacement in a park; she had the feeling that he knew they weren't human, though she didn't know how he could have possibly figured out such a thing just by looking at them.

"Can I help you?" Dante asked, finally releasing Trish and straightening to his full stature, a challenging expression on his face.

"No," the boy said quickly. "I'm sorry. Please excuse my sister." With a firm grip on his sister's shoulder, he got back on his bike as he added, "Let's go, Sakura."

They disappeared around a curve in the road, and Trish looked up at Dante with a smile. "Maybe we should get out of here before we attract more unwanted attention."

"Good idea."

------------

Sakaki fingered the cold metal of the gun Trish had entrusted him with after their shopping adventure. They had only purchased ammunition and other, less controversial weapons at the store, including various blades and a katana. Guns were hard to come by in Japan, so it must have been one of the extras she and Dante had brought with them from overseas. He didn't even want to think about how they had managed to bring so many weapons into the country without incident, but he supposed they were used to transporting such things. They must have had their methods.

"Have you ever shot a real gun, Doujima?" he asked quietly, checking the safety again.

Doujima pulled the small binoculars away from her eyes and glanced at him. "Sure," she replied in a self-assured tone of voice he rarely heard from her. He hadn't expected her flat, genuine response, and he certainly hadn't expected the answer it contained.

"Really?"

Her expression changed entirely then, returning to the bored, mindless expression she generally wore, and familiarity tickled the back of Sakaki's mind. He had seen her demeanor change like that before, and every time it happened it left him with an uneasy feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Yeah," she said with a smile. "When I was finishing my training in Europe I took a course in firearms."

"You trained in Europe?" Sakaki asked in surprise, unable to hide the hint of envy in his voice. Because she had gotten her job at the STN-J through her father's influence in Solomon, he had always assumed her training had been only cursory. Her skills during hunts certainly indicated as much, and so he had always taken pride in the fact that—though he was the rookie on the team—Doujima was even less competent than him. The thought that she had actually trained in Europe when he had been unable to do so for financial reasons was more than a little aggravating.

"Yeah," she answered hesitantly, hiding her eyes behind the binoculars again. "I was interested in European fashion."

His expression souring, Sakaki leaned against the tree beside him with a sigh. "So, you convinced daddy to let you study in Europe so you could go shopping?"

"It was a mistake though," she said without looking at him. "Mind numbingly boring." How typical of her. She had been freely given something he would have died to have, and she hadn't even bothered to appreciate it.

Trying to ignore his pangs of resentment, Sakaki frowned down at the small black figures moving in the valley below them. He tried to summon other images to mind, characters from a game or something else equally benign, but his mind wouldn't let him slip away into an imaginary world this time. The closest he got was the wish that he could beckon other, more helpful black-clad figures to their aid: an all-male cheer squad complete with black coats and bright red bands around their arms who would dance and cheer them to victory. He had a feeling that they would need some encouragement before the evening was over, but he doubted they would find an ouendan to do it.

"Do you think we'll need to use the guns?" he asked quietly, his attention drifting back to the gun in his hand.

"Maybe. Does that bother you?" Sakaki didn't reply, and she turned to look at him again. "Trish said that we might have to fight more than witches, and orbo doesn't work very well on the creatures Beatrice might send after us. Karasuma found that out the hard way."

"Yeah, I know," he snapped.

"What's your deal?" she asked, arching a brow and pressing one hand against her hip in a very feminine pose of annoyance.

"I don't have a deal," he replied quickly, avoiding her gaze.

"You shoot an orbo gun all the time. A real gun isn't that different."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"And besides, you wouldn't shut up about all the guns in that James Bond game you played. You had them memorized with their strengths and weaknesses and everything."

"Hey, what are they doing down there?" Sakaki asked, as much to shut her up as to find out what the small, black-robed figures were doing huddling around something at the center of the clearing.

Returning her attention to the gathering of figures, Doujima said, "It looks like they're starting a fire."

"Do you think we should call Amon?"

"Not yet. There's still no sign of Beatrice. It looks like they're still just setting up. I don't think they'll get started until after nightfall anyway."

"I guess Robin was right about this location after all though, wasn't she?" Sakaki commented, afraid that she would return to the previous topic of conversation if he didn't provide a new one.

"Seems that way," Doujima said inattentively, still looking through the binoculars. She had fallen into that reserved, serious behavior again and it was starting to unnerve him. This wasn't a typical hunt, and Sakaki was already more concerned about it than he was about most hunts, but he didn't need Doujima acting serious as well to remind him of the danger of their situation.

"Amon took it pretty well though, didn't he? He didn't even question her. Most of the time he cross-examines everything she says."

"I guess he just saw the validity of her conclusion," Doujima said, still distracted by whatever she was seeing through the binoculars. Sakaki frowned. Validity of her conclusion? That was a sophisticated way of saying things for someone who used Osakan slang most of the time.

"Yeah, I guess… But what do you think about him and Dante? Do you think Amon stayed in the car because he has a black eye or something? I hope Michael saved a copy of the surveillance tape so we can have a look at it later. I'd love to see Amon's face when Dante hit him."

"Hey Haruto," Doujima said, leaning against a tree branch to keep herself balanced as she continued staring through the binoculars. "Is it just me, or is it getting kind of foggy out here?"

Looking around, Sakaki realized that she had a point. The air felt moister, and the black-hooded figures were less distinct than they had been. Dark soot rose from the bonfire they had built and flames flickered behind them as they moved around the clearing, but there was more than a normal amount of smoke obscuring the air. "Maybe they put something in the fire," he suggested. Doujima didn't respond in words, squealing suddenly and causing his heart to nearly leap out of his chest and up through his windpipe. Grabbing her to get her attention, he hissed, "Quiet, Yurika! They'll hear you."

"What is she thinking?" Doujima demanded despairingly, pulling the binoculars away from her eyes in disgust. "Those boots are too much!"

"Huh?" Sakaki grabbed the binoculars out of her hand when she didn't reply.

The scene looked like something from a horror movie. The black figures resolved into men and women dressed in thick black robes so long they dragged along the ground. They were busily building a stone altar and cutting symbols into the ground in a large circle around the bonfire, pouring white sand into the grooves once they were cut. It was definitely creepy, but he didn't understand Doujima's reactions until he saw the teenagers huddled off to the side of the altar; they were gagged, their hands tied behind their backs and their feet tied at the ankles. Judging by their extreme attire, Sakaki guessed they were loiterers from Harajuku. One of the girls was wearing thigh-high boots covered in what looked like faux fur with a lime green miniskirt and torn plaid shirt patched with bits of bright pink cloth. She was almost certainly the cause of Doujima's outrage.

Reassured by Doujima's return to normalcy, he rolled his eyes at her. "You almost blew our cover over a fashion emergency?"

Her arms crossed over her chest, Doujima pouted at him. "No one deserves to be a human sacrifice for Beatrice, but if someone has to die, at least it'll be someone with horrible fashion sense."

Shaking his head, Sakaki looked through the binoculars again and gasped. He had to blink several times to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. "Oh my god."

"I don't think I want to know," Doujima moaned. "Those boots were enough to scar me for life."

"Doujima!" Sakaki shoved the binoculars into her hands. "The Director is down there too!"

Her eyes widening in surprise, she quickly returned her attention to the clearing. "He's tied up with the others! I don't believe it… Are we supposed to rescue him too?"

"Maybe we should call Amon," Sakaki suggested for the second time.

"Yeah," Doujima agreed this time. "Maybe we—" She cut off mid-sentence, her spine straightening and fear crossing her features.

"What is it?" Sakaki asked, a twinge of panic entering his voice.

"Shh!" she hissed.

Then Sakaki heard it: a soft, threatening growl coming from the woods behind them. He turned slowly to see hundreds of glowing eyes approaching in the twilight darkness. Gripping the butt of his gun, Sakaki snapped it up, shifting his aim indecisively as he saw grotesque, demonic forms approaching on numerous gangly legs.

"This is it," Doujima said, pulling out her own gun smoothly.

As if her action had been a signal, the creatures leapt toward them. Unloading a clip at the stampeding mess of misshapen forms, Sakaki screamed, "Ouendaaaaaan!" but knew that there wouldn't be a cheer squad coming to his rescue any time soon.

------------

The sun turned the sky a hundred shades of fire as it slowly sunk toward the horizon, its brazen hue reflected on the irregular surface of the lake below them. A cool breeze meandered into the car through the open windows, teasing his hair and filling his nose with the scent of blooming cherry blossoms and his mind with the memory of another place and another time long ago. It was a memory he would have rather left buried, especially considering recent events; things were complicated enough as they were without bringing up old ghosts.

Most people would have found the setting to be exceptionally romantic. They were parked on a wide shoulder of a road that snaked around the perimeter of the lake, perched on a cliff with a magnificent view of the sunset, and Amon couldn't ignore the fact that it would have been an ideal lookout point to use at the conclusion of a date. Yet here he was, sharing this potentially perfect moment on the eve of what could turn out to be the end of the world with a fifteen-year-old girl—a girl who acted far older than her years, and a girl he would give his life for, but a fifteen-year-old girl nevertheless.

Robin was looking every bit of her scant fifteen years at the moment. She sighed in contentment, her eyes closed and a small smile curving her lips as she leaned toward the open window and the fragrant air outside. She looked so very young when she smiled like that and guilt wrenched his heart. He had managed to forget the guilt for a while, but it always came back, increasing each time it returned. Looking at her, the desire to touch her was so intense he had to grip the door to resist brushing the loose strands of hair out of her face. But such thoughts seemed perverse when she looked so young and innocent.

He had to look away as his guilt brought that troublesome memory came to mind again, reminding him of responsibility and duty—and facing the consequences of his actions.

It had been a beautiful spring day like this one, scented with the aroma of flowering trees. Simone's mother had shown up at the facility where he had been training to become a hunter, and he had instantly sensed something was different—that something had changed and he could never put it back the way it had been before. She had looked haggard and anxious when she told him they needed to talk, but he had shrugged and opened the door of his car for her, trying not to think of all the possible reasons she might have for such an urgent conversation.

They had gone for a drive without a destination and ended up somewhere in the countryside. She hadn't started talking until they were out of the city, the beauty of the day jarringly incongruous to her words. She told him she was pregnant and had decided to keep the baby, and he had stared at the road, dumbfounded and numb at the thought of being a father. She had taken his silence for anger and assumed he wanted nothing to do with their child, but she had misunderstood the source of his fear. He had been thinking of the horror of growing up with a parent who was growing crazier each day and fearing the shadowy place deep inside of him that he knew would someday explode. His fears had been too debilitating for him to even voice at the time though, and they had argued the entire way back into the city. The sour memory of that beautiful day turned upside down had haunted him ever since.

Amon sighed in a mockery of the satisfied sound Robin had made a moment before, frowning as he looked out the window, his arm resting on the door and his hand involuntarily tightening into a fist. He felt as if he was on his last reserves of energy, and even those were quickly being depleted by the chaos of his own emotions and the constant tug of his craft on his control. Remembering the past wasn't doing anything to help him reign in his emotions either.

"Amon?"

He could feel Robin's questioning green gaze on him, but he didn't turn to look at her. "What is it, Robin?"

"You're so far away," she murmured. "You have been since you picked me up. What happened at the office? Dante wouldn't tell me."

"It's unimportant."

"Was the Director there?" Her voice was faint, and he could feel her fear. He supposed he should have expected her conclusion considering the state he had been in when he arrived at Harry's. Dante had given him another green orb, healing the bruises before they formed, but signs of their fight had remained in his rumpled clothes and the pink shadow of the freshly mended cut on his lip.

Sighing again, he answered, "No. He wasn't there."

"Then why—"

"Dante and I had a misunderstanding." Admitting the truth relieved some of the tension in his shoulders, though he could feel her concern increasing in proportion to his relief.

"You fought?" Robin's voice was so sad in the quiet, and he ached to tell her that the fight hadn't been his fault, but he couldn't lie to her.

"Yes."

"Was it about Touko?"

Amon shook his head, finally turning his head enough to look at her out of the corner of his eyes. "It wasn't about anything."

A wrinkle had formed between Robin's brows, and her frown had deepened, but he imagined that the expression wasn't having the effect on him she was intending since it only made her look more endearing to him than usual. "It had to be about something. Dante wouldn't fight over nothing."

Annoyance flaring, Amon looked away again. "And I would?"

"That's not what I meant." Robin's sigh was no longer one of contentment.

Struggling to gain control over his emotions once again, Amon focused on forcing his fisted hand to relax. How could he possibly explain the fight to her when he barely understood it himself? Dante had provoked him beyond the limit of his patience and he had reacted with violence, conscious thought ceasing as his emotions took over, spilling out though his fists. The aspect of the fight he had the most difficulty accepting was the fact that Dante had let him do it. He had pushed him over the edge knowing what the consequences would be and accepted them without a word.

Disgusted with himself, Amon had felt queasy when he finally came back to his senses at the end of the fight, almost enjoying the pain of Dante's retaliation. The memory of Zaizen's abuse was still too fresh in his mind, and the similarity of Zaizen's brutality to the mindless violence Amon had unleashed on Dante was enough to fill Amon with self-loathing. The ease with which Dante had usurped Amon's control made his head spin, and though he knew Dante had a knack for pushing his buttons, he also knew his own weakness had been as much at fault.

"It won't happen again," Amon said finally, knowing his answer was inadequate but hoping it would appease her.

She remained silent, and after waiting for a response for as long as he could stand, Amon dragged his gaze back to her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but her expression was difficult to interpret. Even with their connection, he couldn't make sense of her feelings.

Turning as much as he could in his seat to face her, he asked quietly, "Are you angry with me, Robin?"

Robin's expression became even more enigmatic as she shifted in her seat and looked up at him, her brows furrowing and her lips pouting slightly. "Do you still care for Touko?"

He should have expected the question, but for some reason he had not. Refocusing his eyes on the dashboard with a frown, he considered his answer. "My relationship with Touko was one of necessity. I haven't cared for her in a long time."

"That's not true," Robin stated with such assurance that his gaze snapped back to her in surprise. "I can feel what you feel, remember?" she offered in explanation.

"Then you misunderstood my feelings."

"No. You're denying them."

"Robin," he said with a hint of warning, though he wasn't sure what he was warning her about.

She turned away, looking outside again and catching a pink petal in the palm of her hand as it blew in through the window. Amon watched her in frustration. He felt helpless when she ignored him so purposefully because he knew that forcing her to return her attention to him would require a sacrifice on his part. "I don't love her, Robin," he said with a touch of anger. "I never did, and I certainly don't now."

"You don't love her," she agreed absently, still looking out the window. "But you don't hate her either, even though you pretend to."

He stared at the side of her head, dumbfounded. He had given all he was willing to give to this conversation. Either she would have to explain herself or he would stay silent until they heard from Doujima and Sakaki. It might not have been the most adult way of dealing with her, but he was tired and emotionally strung out. He simply had nothing left to give at the moment.

To his surprise, she explained herself without further encouragement. "It took me a while to see past your anger, but I think I understand now. You want to protect her."

"What!" Amon asked incredulously. "Robin, she's not the one I'm interested in protecting."

Turning enough to look at him out of the corner of her eyes, she countered, "You can only protect one person at a time?"

Closing his eyes, Amon rubbed his temples and leaned back in his seat. This conversation was far too complicated for his capacity to deal with it at the moment. She shifted in her seat and he resolved to ignore her for the moment. Nevertheless, he jerked in reaction to the sensation of her warm fingertips on his wrist. His eyes snapped open, and he was surprised by the proximity of her face. "To answer your question, no, I'm not angry with you," she said quietly, as if in apology for prying into his feelings.

A familiar scent on her breath made him stiffen in surprise, his brows drawing together in concern. Grasping her upper arms firmly, he demanded, "Robin, have you been drinking?" Suddenly the blush on her cheeks and her odd behavior made complete sense.

Looking up at him sheepishly, she replied, "Doujima ordered a chocolate martini for me. I told her I didn't want one, but she said I needed to relax and made me drink it."

"And?" Amon asked, sensing there was more to the story.

"It tasted really good…" Her blush intensified. "So I ordered another one."

He could do nothing but gape at her in disbelief for several moments. He wondered if this had been Robin's first experience with alcohol and remembered again just how young she was. Releasing her arms with a frown, he repressed the lecture forming on his tongue; Doujima deserved the lecture more than Robin did. How had she convinced Master Harry to serve her martinis, anyway? Still, this was definitely among the more irresponsible things Robin had ever done.

"Are you angry?" she asked softly, and he wasn't so weary that he failed to notice that she was echoing his previous question.

Looking at her through half-lidded eyes, his expression tight, he said, "You tell me. Apparently you know more about my feelings than I do."

A mischievous expression crossed her features, and he opened his eyes all the way, watching her more carefully. "You want to kiss me."

Consciously closing his mouth after his jaw had dropped open in shock, he wondered what more alcohol would do to Robin if it only took a couple martinis to make her this bold. "Robin…" he began without any idea of how to finish his sentence.

Her hands pressing into the edge of her seat, she leaned toward him and he struggled with himself to think of a way to stop her without hurting her feelings. Thought ceased moments later when her lips met his in a sloppy kiss and she crawled up onto her knees in her seat, one of her hands relocating from the seat to his thigh. Her mouth was hot and tasted like chocolate and alcohol, and he couldn't stop himself from kissing her back hungrily. His hands had found their way to her hair, loosening it from its ribbons roughly. She was practically in his lap at this point and he moaned into her mouth when he felt her pulling his shirt out of his pants.

_You have to stop her!_ his poor, abused conscience screamed at him, but his hands weren't listening as they fought the folds of her skirt. He didn't allow himself enough thought to consider the fact that he needed to stop himself before he could stop her. She had managed to slide one of her hands beneath his shirt and his conscience was quickly fading into the background as the pounding of his heart and the need burning through his veins drowned it out.

As if his conscience hadn't been distraction enough, he had only just found the bare skin of a slender leg beneath her skirt when he felt his craft rising inside of him. The breeze whipping through his hair was no longer light and airy with the fragrance of cherry blossoms—it was icy cold and scented faintly with musk and smoke, and he knew that it was his own power changing the currents in the air. The world seemed to crystallize around him, his powers casting everything into high relief and his senses heightening to the point of almost painful clarity. Robin's craft reacted immediately, her fingers burning against his frigid skin with such heat that he imagined they would leave scars.

He knew he should fight it, but his control over his craft was evaporating as quickly as his control over his hormones, and he sank beneath the waves of power, his hand sliding up her calf and pausing at the bend of her knee as he broke the kiss momentarily to get a better angle. Her green eyes had a tinge of liquid fire in their depths when she opened them to look at him, her halo of loose, ginger hair trembling against her cheeks as she breathed. She looked like a goddess—not the quiet, tentative girl she usually was—and his control slipped even further away.

Pulling her the rest of the way into his seat, his hand still hooked behind her knee, he claimed her lips again briefly before trailing kisses down her slender neck, the wind still thundering in his ears. His hand slowly traced a path up the back of her thigh, his other hand still caught in the folds of her skirt, searching for more skin. She moaned breathlessly, her face buried in his hair as she pushed herself up on her knees, pressing her body against him when his hand reached the curve of her hip. His eyes fluttered open, lips pausing against the hollow of her collarbone when he realized that his hand had reached her hip without feeling an undergarment along the way.

He barely had time to ponder this fact, though, before reality suddenly came crashing down around him. His heart was pounding so hard he felt as if his chest would break in two and his breath was so loud in his ears that he could barely hear the sound of his phone ringing obnoxiously into the heated quiet of the car. _What the hell am I doing?_ Pushing Robin away from him sharply, he fought his craft back into submission, surprised when it obeyed him more easily than he had expected. His high contrast, heightened sense of the world around him dulled slowly, and he watched sadly as Robin turned back into the slim, pale girl she usually was instead of the blazing goddess he had seen a few moments before. Her bright green eyes blinked at him in confusion, her lips still red from being kissed so vigorously and her cheeks flushed a dark rose. Staring at her as he struggled to catch his breath, he fought the temptation to throw the phone out the window and into the lake.

Finding his phone in the cup holder beneath one of her knees, he tried to ignore the fact that she hadn't moved and her hand was still somewhere beneath his shirt. "Yes?" he snapped into the phone.

There was a pause before Dante's voice growled, "You sound out of breath."

Amon went cold at the realization that he couldn't deny Dante's implication because the demon hunter would know he was lying. A sickening sensation washed over him as he considered the possibility that Dante had called because he knew what they had been doing—that he had felt it. Anger entering his voice, he asked, "Did you call me for a reason?"

"You do remember why we're here, don't you?" Dante's voice was sharp enough to cut straight to Amon's fear.

"Of course I do—"

"Then why the hell are you raising power here unless you want to get Beatrice's attention!"

Amon swallowed, closing his eyes, still feeling Robin's eyes focused on him and her warm hand against his skin. His body temperature dropped even further, the heat of passion replaced abruptly by a cold knot of fear and the bitter tang of guilt. How had he allowed himself to get so carried away? His irresponsibility was unforgivable. Without a word, he pulled Robin's wrist from beneath his shirt with his free hand and nudged her firmly back toward the passenger seat.

"Are you listening to me, Amon?" Anger dripped from Dante's words, and Amon found himself wishing that Dante hadn't used his real name. Somehow the use of his name made Dante's anger all the more real and acute, akin to the effect of a disapproving mother's use of a child's full name when he was in serious trouble.

"I heard you," Amon sighed, his tone vaguely repentant.

"Then answer me. What the hell were you thinking?"

Turning his head violently, he looked out the window, looking at but not seeing the fading glow of the sunset or the wash of stars just beginning to twinkle into existence in the velvet sky. "I wasn't," he answered simply.

"Yeah," Dante snapped. "So I gathered. I don't know if Beatrice felt your little spectacle of power or not—hopefully she's in the middle of too much power herself at the moment to notice—but we have other problems. Trish was concerned about Doujima and Sakaki because they still haven't made contact. We tried calling them, but neither of them answered, so she decided to scout out the area. She said the entire valley where Beatrice is planning her little shindig is filled with an unnatural fog. I don't know about you, but that's what I'd consider suspicious activity. Doujima and Sakaki would have to be pretty preoccupied not to notice."

Gathering his scattered wits, Amon clenched the phone in his hand. "Send Trish to look for them," he ordered, straightening in his seat. "And contact Michael. We're starting the mission now. We'll meet you at the location in a few minutes."

"Understood," Dante said coldly. "Don't get distracted on the way."

Shutting his phone, Amon started the car and pulled on his seatbelt. He could feel Robin still watching him intently, but he didn't have words for her right now. He reached down to shift the car into drive, but he felt her hand cover his.

"I'm sorry, Amon," she said before he could say a word.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he replied without looking at her, putting the car into gear and gunning it out onto the road. "Do you think Beatrice noticed…us…?" He couldn't finish the sentence, his jaw clenching.

"I don't think so," she whispered faintly.

"Good," he said in relief.

"I should have told Doujima no," she said after an uncomfortable pause.

"I told you that it wasn't your fault, Robin."

"But, Amon, I've never had alcohol before, and it made me feel so strange. I shouldn't have—"

"_I_ shouldn't have given into you," he interrupted. "I'm the one who made the mistake, Robin."

"Amon…" He held his breath as he waited for her to finish, fearing and yearning to hear the words he knew were coming. "I love you."

Without shifting his attention from the road, his hand found hers clenched in her lap and he squeezed it tightly. He couldn't say the words back to her—not right now when his throat was choked with guilt. They would have sounded trite anyway, repeated back as if they were nothing more than obligatory. And he knew that she could feel his emotions even without a verbal announcement of them, so he simply clutched her hand and struggled to clear his mind. He had lost control too many times in one day and he refused to let it happen again until Beatrice was no longer a threat.

** Towel: Anyone read the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? According to this book, a towel is one of the most precious possessions of a hitchhiker. I don't know how Dante knows this, but I couldn't help making the reference. :)**

** Ouendan: Translates as "cheer squad." Sakaki is referring to a freaking awesome Nintendo DS game in this scene in which you help various people in difficult situations by hitting places on the screen in time to the music. This helps the ouendan stay on beat and continue cheering. It's so much fun and has such awesome music, but unfortunately it's only in Japanese. But, they are making a sequel for the US, so keep your eyes peeled.**

** This reference is rather obscure, but I thought of it when I was writing so I thought I'd share. I couldn't help but think of a scene from Alias in which Syd throws her phone into the ocean (it repeats later on in a flashback dream sequence which is awesome) and after she does it, Vaughn comments, "You just threw your phone in the Pacific….twice."**

**The title of this chapter refers to the song by Beck. With all the make out scenes in this chapter, I couldn't help thinking about it because of the line from it that always sticks in my mind: "Let's make it out, baby." I had a really hard time coming up with a title for this one, and I'm still not completely satisfied, but oh well…**

**Oh, and if you didn't catch it, the first scene takes place in Penguin Park, a location that shows up several times in Card Captor Sakura. I like that Touya notices that Dante and Trish aren't human—he's got powers of his own, you see…**

**So, I hope people enjoyed it. I know some of you have been waiting a VERY long time for more Amon x Robin stuff, so I hope it satisfied your craving for a little while, at least. (Oh, and eek! Robin goes commando! Who knew? Come on, she _does_ sleep in the nude, after all…)**

**I didn't get to the real action yet, but after I started writing I realized that I still had some things that needed to get written before we got to the action anyway…and this just felt like a natural break. I've got at least part of the next chapter written though, so hopefully it won't be too long!**

**Also, to anyone who's interested, I changed the website link on my profile page from my website to my blog since I update it much more often—like, at all… Check it out if you're bored. ;)**

**One last thing, thank you to everyone who reviewed recently. I _will_ respond to all the reviews I haven't responded to yet, but I've kind of fallen behind on that lately. Sorry! **


	29. Death By Moonlight

**Author's Note: **

**This is the last chapter of Libera Me. I can foresee the screams and threats right now, but worry not! I had originally planned to end this story here anyway, though some things have changed over time and I've come up with new ideas and plot twists along the way. Still, this point in the story marks a shift in the dynamics between characters as well as the direction of the plot, so it seems like an appropriate breaking point. I won't say more here, but all will be explained at the bottom of the page.**

**Before we go on though, I wanted to give a shout out to my friend, neowolf, who really helped me iron out some plot points in the next few chapters. She also encouraged me to make the "break" with this story, so if you don't like the idea you can blame her. ;P**

Chapter 29

Death by Moonlight

Beatrice opened her eyes slowly, drinking in the electric energy of the night; she could taste the potential in the air as all of nature fell into alignment with her powers. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, slowly gathering followers and searching around the world for the perfect place to open the gate; she had chosen this location because it was a little known gathering place of power which just happened to be compatible with her own. There were more ideal locales for such an endeavor, to be sure, portals of ancient energy with a stronger connection between the human world and the demon world--but those places were heavily guarded on both sides. This place, on the other hand, was easily accessible in this world, and also had the added benefit of being close to the place where her master was caged between the worlds.

"My lady, everything is prepared."

"Good." Beatrice turned to look at the servant as she stepped out into the cool, moist air of the evening. His face was partially obscured by the mist in the air, but his identity was unimportant. Smiling in anticipation, she began her descent into the valley where the door to the demon world would open, her long dress dragging over the grass. "The stage is set and all of the players have arrived. We should begin the first Rite immediately."

"Yes, my lady," the man said with a bow, disappearing into a swirl of fog.

She felt her master's presence slip into her mind. **_I am waiting for you on the other side, Beatrice. You know what must be done._**

_Yes, master. The time has come. _She paused at the edge of the circle of power her followers had created, taking a deep breath and feeling a rush of power wash over her as she crossed the barrier. Beyond the edge of the circle the air was clear, a column of night rising from the ground to the dark, star-studded sky. _Everything is in place, master. Even Dante cannot stop me now. The only thing that concerns me is that witch girl; you were right about her powers. She has become bold, trying to taunt me by announcing her arrival here._

_**Her powers are extraordinary, but she is foolish to flaunt them. She cannot control what she does not understand, and she has only an inkling of her own true powers. You needn't worry; she can fight you, but she cannot defeat you until she realizes her true purpose.**_

_I understand, master. _Beatrice stood behind the stone altar, her followers forming a circle around her, their faces hidden by thick black robes. Raising her hands slowly, her palms upward to the sky, she began drawing on the power of the charged air around her. "Bring the first sacrifice to me."

----------

Dante felt Robin and Amon approaching before he heard them, their boots whispering over the dry grass. He could tell from just a cursory glance that his suspicions about Amon's delay in answering the phone were as much as fact; Robin's hair was loose around her shoulders and the flush on her cheeks and lips said all that needed to be said. He found their choice of timing for such amorous activities to be beyond stupid, but he also knew he had little right to judge anyone's choices in that area. He was a creature of impulse most of the time, and he knew he had made more than one bad decision in his life where passion was concerned.

"They're here, Mike," he announced into his headset.

"It's about time," Karasuma muttered anxiously over the connection.

Switching on his own headset, Amon asked, "Any word on Sakaki or Doujima?"

"Not yet," Dante replied, pushing away from the tree he had been leaning against. "But Trish found signs of nobodies."

"Nobodies?"

Dante shrugged. "They're the ugly little shits that attacked us in the theatre. They kind of look like doggy survivors of Chernobyl--they have heads and appendages to spare and smell like rotten egg salad mixed with raw fish." He saw Robin shiver out of the corner of his eye and realized that his description probably could have used a little editing.

"Can you see anything from the satellite, Michael?" Amon asked so seriously that Dante figured he was trying to make up for his previous lack of responsibility with extra focus now.

The sound of Michael typing feverishly was followed by a quiet sigh. "Something's interfering with the infrared feed. I can't see much of anything."

"Maybe it has something to do with this fog," Robin offered quietly, creating whorls in the mist with her fingers.

"Probably," Dante agreed. "If you ask me, it's the magical equivalent of a smoke screen."

"I _can_ track Trish's location through her headset though," Michael said, typing rapidly on his keyboard again. "She's almost at the position where Sakaki and Doujima were supposed to be waiting."

"We should get moving, then," Amon stated flatly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Dante looked at him in surprise. "Don't you want to know whether they made it or not first?"

Amon's slate grey eyes focused on him coldly. "If they didn't make it then we should move even faster."

"Amon," Robin said faintly, her hand catching in Amon's sleeve. She was looking off through the trees to their right with an unfocused gaze, swaying slightly on her feet. "Beatrice is starting the ritual."

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Dante glanced up at the patch of sky above them framed by crisscrossing tree limbs. Indigo clouds glowing with lightning filigree swept across the stars as he watched, moving swiftly toward the horizon. The sky had been clear without a sign of rain only minutes before, but now the weight of an approaching storm was heavy in the air. He didn't even have to consider the possibility that it was natural.

"She's a showy bitch, isn't she?" Dante said with a smirk.

"What's happening?" Karasuma asked over the headset, a hint of fear in her voice.

"Looks like a spring shower just blew in. Somehow I don't think it's going to bring any 'May flowers' though." Without looking back to see if Robin and Amon were following, Dante took off through the trees, flexing his hands and considering pulling out a gun or two just to feel the reassuring weight of them. He knew that conventional weapons would not be his chief method of attack in this fight though, so he left his guns in their holsters and his sword in its sheath, readying himself mentally instead.

----------

The desperate sound of his own breathing echoed in the quiet, and Sakaki looked up at Doujima, the metal of the gun slick beneath his sweaty hands. He had gone through half his ammunition, but had barely made a mark on the creatures that had swarmed around them. Doujima, on the other hand, had turned into a cool-headed, fearless killer, her gun held comfortably in her hand and her posture perfect as she dropped beast after beast with her deadly aim.

He had never seen her like this before, though--now that he was over his jealousy--he found he rather liked it. For the first time since he'd met her, he found himself comparing her to one of the kickass female game characters instead of one of the buxomy, brainless sidekicks. Still, he couldn't help wondering where her sudden nerve and poise had come from. Had she only been playing the fool before?

"Hey, Doujima," he began, finally allowing his gun arm to drop to his side.

She shushed him hastily, her gun still raised and ready in her hands. Her eyes darted around the misty shadows drifting between the trees, and Sakaki followed her gaze in bewilderment. What did she see that he didn't? A soft, wet squelch followed by the whoosh of Doujima spinning in the direction of the sound startled Sakaki's heart into action again.

"It's just me," a feminine voice announced and Trish materialized from the shadows, dragging her left boot over the grass as if to wipe something off.

Doujima lowered her gun slowly and Sakaki watched her, still amazed by the shift in her personality. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Trish replied, glancing around the carcass-strewn clearing. "We got worried when you didn't answer your phones." Turning in a slow circle as she observed the carnage, she added, "It looks like you were pretty busy."

Smiling as she put her gun away, Doujima said, "You could say that."

"You can't see much from here, can you?" Trish asked, approaching the edge of the cliff where Sakaki and Doujima had been observing the preparations for the ritual. The fog was now so thick that nothing could be seen of the valley but clouds of slowly swirling white.

"The fog rolled in just before we were attacked," Sakaki replied, standing next to her and peering into the mist.

Touching her headset, Trish continued gazing into the murkiness below as though she could see through it if she stared at it long enough. "This is Trish," she announced a moment later. "I found them. Everything's under control, but this fog is thicker than clotted cream."

Sakaki reached for his own headset, pulling it over his ear and turning it on in time to hear Dante laugh on the other end. "I know. I'm walking through it right now. It has a funny smell--kind of sickly sweet, like sour milk."

"And it cuts like butter too, I bet," Trish said with a smile.

Sakaki raised an eyebrow at Trish. "What's with the dairy references?"

"I don't know," Dante replied, "But it's just a damn good thing there's no butter in hell or we'd be in real trouble."

Doujima smirked. "Maybe Beatrice is really a cow."

"Then it's time for slaughter," Amon cut in, his tone deathly serious as he ruined their fun with his typical fervor. "Move into your positions as quickly as you can. Beatrice has already started the ceremony. Report back when you've found the edge of the fog but wait for my order before proceeding."

"How do you know there _will_ be an end?" Sakaki asked, exchanging a glance with Doujima.

"Because Beatrice couldn't do shit in this fluff," Dante answered for Amon. "I can barely see my own hand in front of my face."

"Sounds great," Trish said as she stepped gingerly into the fog. Sakaki followed her reluctantly, the damp air clinging to his skin as he moved through it.

"Beatrice might be hiding other creatures under this cover," Amon warned, his voice still gravely serious. "Be prepared for an attack."

"Check," Doujima replied, following Sakaki with her gun raised.

----------

Robin's uneasiness grew with every step she took. Dante's leather-clad back was nearly obscured by the swirling veil of white as he strode purposefully through it ahead of her, and the only other identifiable landmarks in the mist were the vague shapes of nearby tree trunks and the brush scattered across the ground under her feet. It felt as if they had been wandering through the hazy, dreamlike landscape for hours already with no end in sight, and Robin was beginning to wonder if there was, in fact, an end to the fog at all. She could feel Beatrice's power raging somewhere in the distance, but no matter how far they walked, it never seemed to get any closer.

She didn't trust her own wits much at the moment, though, so she didn't voice her fear that they were quickly becoming lost. Her reasoning skills had been fairly mushy ever since she drank that last martini, though the drowsy haze the alcohol wrapped around her mind had been blown away fairly efficiently by her encounter with Amon in the car. Just thinking about the incident sent a thrill of excitement through her, but it was quickly followed by a wave of shame. She felt guilty for initiating the contact, especially considering the circumstances, and there was nothing Amon could say that would lessen that guilt. She had acted like a temptress and taken advantage of his weakness; she still didn't know where the thoughts had come from or why she had acted on them so willingly, but she could only assume they had something to do with the alcohol. She vowed silently to never touch the substance again.

"We must be going in circles," Amon said suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts. "We should have reached the edge by now."

Dante stopped so suddenly that Robin nearly ran into him, her hands instinctively coming up between them and landing just beneath his shoulder blades as she stumbled to a stop. He gently pushed her to the side as he turned to face Amon with a scowl, but the light touch was enough to send shivers running down her spine. Ever since the moment when she had felt Amon's craft stir and her own craft had responded, her body had felt overly sensitized, all of her senses heightened to an almost unbearably reactive state. Apparently even Dante's feather-light touch was enough to make her body tremble now.

"I've been walking in a straight line," Dante said resolutely. "Either we were farther away from Beatrice's location than we thought or this fog is more than just a smoke screen."

"What are you implying?" Amon asked with a hint of annoyance, as if he still believed that Dante had been purposely leading them astray.

"Maybe this fog does more than obscure our surroundings."

Considering this, Amon snapped, "Michael. What is our position relative to the target?"

A crackle of static over their headsets almost swallowed Michael's words completely. "...mon. I can't...io...tion."

"Michael!" Amon said sharply, but there was no response aside from more static. "Sakaki, Doujima?"

"Great," Dante said with a wry smile. "This is like déjà vu all over again."

Amon did not respond, narrowing his eyes at Dante. A rumble of thunder shook the ground, and Robin hugged her arms to herself, wincing as she found that her skin was hypersensitive even to her own touch. Amon swept his gaze over the gauzy white clouds around them with a fierce frown, and she could feel his frustration with his own indecision. "Robin," he said finally, still staring into the mist, "do you think you could burn off some of this fog with your craft?"

"Maybe," she replied. "But Beatrice would know for sure that we're here then."

"I don't think we have much choice at this point," Amon said impatiently.

Robin nodded, pulling her glasses out of her pocket and placing them delicately on her nose, trying to ignore the chill of the metal on her skin.

"Careful," Dante advised. She glanced at him quizzically and he added, "Remember, wood is highly flammable. Only you can prevent forest fires."

She gave him a small, reassuring smile before reaching out tentatively with her craft. She analyzed the fog briefly before she began heating the moisture laden air, cautious of touching the trees or grass around them. The fog resisted the heat, billowing and slipping out of reach, but it finally began to dissipate slowly, more and more trees coming into view as she pushed the wave of heat wider. She gasped when the receding fog revealed more than just trees. Hundreds of deformed, skulking creatures crept out into the open, their growls mingling with the thunder. Beyond the wave of creatures, though, Robin could make out a large fire rising into the night and figures wrapped in dark cloaks silhouetted against the light.

She heard Dante and Amon take positions beside her, drawing their guns as the grotesque creatures charged toward them, but she was already summoning her powers. The first dozen "nobodies" sent ear-piercing screams into the night as they were enveloped in flames, but more creatures filled the gaps almost immediately.

"Amon!" Michael's voice rang clearly through the headset as Robin focused her craft on more nobodies. "The interference is gone! I can see...oh my God..."

----------

"What's happening?" Trish asked when she heard Michael cry out suddenly over the headset, which had been strangely quiet up until that point. A sudden wave of heat washed over her and she staggered slightly in surprise, amazed as the fog evaporated around them.

"I can't believe it!" Sakaki said with a laugh. "The edge of the fog came to us."

"Look out!" Doujima shouted, pointing to the nobodies creeping out of the shadows toward them. "More of those things!"

Pulling out the twin guns holstered at her hips, Trish took off toward the swell of creatures with a sardonic smile. "It's show time," she announced with Dante-like enthusiasm, showering the fiends with bullets as she ran toward them.

----------

"They're completely surrounded!" Karasuma cried, leaning closer to Michael's computer in horror as she watched the hundreds of blips moving across the screen. Her hand brushed against the edge of the phone in her pocket; the Hermit, wherever he was in the chaos she was watching unfold from a distance, was waiting for her signal. She hesitated, reminding herself that he was only her last resort in killing Beatrice.

His fingers racing over the keyboard, Michael zoomed in on the area and switched frequencies, a soft sound of frustration escaping his lips. "Something's happening." He pointed at the brilliant white patch surrounded by dim red spots near the center of the screen. "Something more than the bonfire is creating that heat." Zooming the camera in even further, Karasuma saw what he was talking about, a fractured shape in the infrared image where the fire had been, but far brighter.

"Is she opening a door already?" Karasuma asked, her fingers brushing over the edge of her phone again.

A sharp cry from Robin over the headsets answered Karasuma's question.

----------

The force of Beatrice's pull on her craft was enough to knock the breath out of her and Robin stumbled, crying out only when she saw the explosion of brilliant lightning illuminate the heavens and flash down to the ground where the ceremony was taking place. The light cracked through the air and a crash of thunder sent tremors ripping through the earth under her feet.

Hands caught her before she fell, and she nearly cried out at the contact--her skin felt raw like an open wound. She sensed Amon beside her and felt him pouring cool energy into her through his touch, his hands tightening on her waist as he supported her weight. Her vision was splotchy, but she blinked away the tears in her eyes and leaned against Amon as she struggled to hold on to the energy Beatrice was wrenching away from her.

Dante was still fighting the shadowy shapes of nobodies, his figure outlined against the glow originating from where the lightning had struck the ground. He danced around the creatures, cutting through them with his sword, sparks of energy flitting off his blade and into the darkness like fireflies as he moved. She felt his pain dimly above her own as the demon spawn swarmed around him crying defiantly into the night, their claws tearing into his skin and their poisonous breath choking him.

"Dante!" she managed to cry weakly reaching out a hand toward him, but Amon held her back.

"Focus, Robin," he said roughly, shifting his grip on her as one of the creatures got past Dante and rushed toward them.

Amon fired several rounds at the creature, but it just kept coming, contorting and shrieking madly along the way. Robin considered using her craft, but she couldn't draw it to the surface, Beatrice ripping the power out of her fingers as soon as she touched it. Amon's craft roared to life around them suddenly and she squinted into the wind, watching in revulsion as it tore the creature limb from limb. She knew his reaction had been purely instinctive, but it showed that he was gaining at least a shred of control over his craft and that thought eased her mind slightly.

A roar of fury from Dante returned her attention to him as he leapt out of the swarm of creatures and up into the air. To her surprise, he jumped again in midair, a dim red circle glowing faintly beneath his feet for a moment, the ornate symbols drawn through it reminiscent of an ogham wheel. Silver hair shimmered in the light as he flipped in midair, swinging his sword around and using the momentum to dive toward the creatures, landing with enough force to send a small shockwave through the ground. The remaining creatures cried out one last time, and she looked away sharply when she heard them explode in a spray of fluids.

When she returned her attention to him, Dante was staggering against his sword as a cloud of toxic gas rose from the misshapen forms at his feet and billowed around him. A cough wracked his body and she found herself fighting Amon's grip on her waist again, reaching out with her craft toward him, but Beatrice managed to steal away even that bit of energy before she could touch him. Dante's head snapped up, his eyes glowing faintly red in the darkness as he focused on her.

Her own pain overwhelmed her again when she felt another force yank on her power, and she heard her own scream before she realized she was the one making it. "Robin," Amon gasped, his voice tight as his craft gained strength around them. Her tears evaporated in the wind and she strained to see Dante as he approached slowly, his hair whipping around his face. It was only when his hand seized her arm roughly that she realized he was the other force pulling on her craft and understood why; she could feel Beatrice's rage as the tide of power turned directions and some of the energy began flowing back into Robin.

----------

Doujima shoved another clip into her gun, bracing herself against a tree trunk as she focused on the few remaining creatures still blocking her path. She could just faintly make out the hum of fervent chanting above the gunshots and cries of dying creatures, and the sound sent chills down her spine. A column of sickly yellow light was spiraling up into the night sky at the center of the circle of witches, and she knew their time was running out quickly. Beatrice's figure was silhouetted against the blazing light, her arms splayed upward to the small patch of star-strewn sky showing through the center of the storm clouds whirling above.

Breathing a brief sigh of relief as Sakaki finished off the last creature, Doujima emptied her clip and switched to her orbo gun. Amon had said to wait for his order when they reached the edge of the fog, but obviously they were beyond such reasoning at this point. When the fog had evaporated, she had seen Amon, Dante and Robin on the other side of the clearing, and they had been fighting a crowd of demonic creatures as well. Most of the sounds communicated over their headsets were nothing more than incoherent cries and the sounds of gunfire, and, judging by the ear-splitting scream she had recently heard from Robin, Amon didn't have time for strategizing at the moment.

Trish had already taken off for Beatrice's gathering, lightning sparking at her fingertips, and Doujima followed at her heels, firing off orbo bullets at the nearest witches as she went. The witches barely reacted, too absorbed in the ritual to retaliate, and between her orbo and Trish's lightning the two nearest witches wavered and fell to their knees. This had been the part of the plan from the beginning, though they had hoped to eliminate as many of Beatrice's followers as possible and weaken her significantly before she could even begin opening the door. As they drew closer, Doujima realized just how late they were when she saw a fissure opening in the earth at Beatrice's feet, the column of light erupting through the opening like lava through the mouth of a volcano.

Another witch stumbled and fell and she heard Sakaki running beside her, pelting the fallen witch with several more shots to make sure it stayed down. She paused to catch her breath for a moment, letting Sakaki overtake her, but her breath caught in her throat when she noticed the fur-covered boots hanging limply off the edge of the altar. Her eyes focused on the three bodies lying motionless on the stone surface and she felt a pang of guilt for the comments she had made earlier. The reality of their failure to save the innocents hit her like a blow to the gut; they hadn't even had a chance to attempt rescuing them.

Then, another thought distracted her from her guilt as she realized that one of the "sacrifices" was missing. She searched the circle for Zaizen, but he was nowhere to be seen. Had he escaped?

Something shoved her roughly to the side, and she slid across the grass as she fell. A heavy stone cracked against the tree she had been standing in front of, and she looked up to see Sakaki standing over her, aiming his gun at a witch who was retaliating. The witch had stepped out of the circle and was sending other objects flying through the air toward them, but they toppled harmlessly to the ground when Sakaki's orbo bullets hit him square in the chest.

Doujima was in the process of clamoring back to her feet when she felt her phone vibrating against her hip. Her eyes widened, and she snatched the phone out of her pocket. The caller id lit up and a shock of panic shot through her. Sakaki heard her gasp and looked back at her to make sure she was all right, but she didn't have time to consider his concern. She grabbed at his arm and started dragging him with her as she turned her back on the chanting figures and the column of light.

"Doujima!" he exclaimed, digging in his heels. "What the hell are you doing? The witches are that way!"

Remembering the headsets suddenly, she spun back to face him, snatching the headset off his head and tossing it off into the darkness. She flung her own headset after it a moment later and turned back into the woods again.

"What has gotten into you? Is Beatrice controlling you?" Sakaki's voice was furious, and he used his full strength against her then, pulling her back toward him and turning her around.

"No, you idiot!" she hissed. "I'm trying to save your life." She tried to pull away from his grip, but he shoved her back against a nearby tree.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Listen, Haruto, I don't have time to explain," she said, her voice rising to a fevered pitch. "They're going to be here any minute! We have to go!" He glared at her, uncomprehending. "You're just going to have to trust me," she pleaded, wriggling out from between him and the tree and tugging him after her again.

"What about everyone else?" he asked, finally allowing her to lead him away.

"We have to hurry," she said, ignoring his question.

---------

"Just hold on, Robin," Dante murmured, his voice tight. "Let _us_ do the work."

They were losing the fight. Dante was honest enough with himself to admit that fact. He was pouring strength into Robin as quickly as it was being drained away and the chasm before them continued to expand. They were only helping Beatrice. He couldn't hold on to the power, couldn't get a firm grip on the thread they were playing tug of war with, and his demon side was reacting. He growled words of encouragement to Robin, but for every momentary victory they made as they turned the tide, Beatrice only pulled back all the harder, and now they were reaching the point of no return.

The gate--if it could be called by such a name when it was nothing more than a gaping hole in the ground that absorbed and bent the light around it while exuding an unearthly, pulsating glow--was widening slowly, and Beatrice's cackle of victory was really starting to get on his nerves. They managed to stop the tide of power for several moments and reverse it a fraction, but the effort cost them more than they gained. Dante felt his devil trigger hovering on the edge of his senses, but he refused to transform completely until he knew that the wealth of energy his demon form gave him could be utilized and not wasted.

"You're too late!" Beatrice screamed at them, and Dante caught sight of the curl of black smoke swirling out of the chasm at her feet. Obscured by the haze, a dark shape was clawing at the edge of the opening, and Dante recognized the scream the creature made as it strained to break through the barrier between the worlds.

"No!" Robin cried. "He's breaking through already! She has the devil's full power on her side now." Dante didn't take the time to correct her, too busy trying to think of a way to use his limited devil trigger to the best advantage. This was not his kind of fight; he liked barging in with guns blazing, thinking about strategy in the split second between action and reaction and living each moment as if it might be his last. He liked the edge of adrenaline and the thrill of danger. This battle included none of his favorite things; it was utterly and heart-wrenchingly exhausting, and hovered on the edge of awareness rather than in the physicality of weapons and blood.

"This isn't over yet," Amon managed to say, though his voice was hoarse. "She won't win."

Dante frowned at him, knowing the man had exhausted most of his power nearly at the beginning of the struggle simply because he had no control over it. It had flowed out of him in a torrent of raw energy, much of it lost along the way, but he had continued to fight and give support to Robin with what remained of his strength. Dante could tell that Amon had exhausted his reserves now--though he still had not stopped the flow of energy into Robin. The power had to come from somewhere, and Dante would bet money that it was coming from a place Amon should never have drawn from; he would regret giving so much of himself later when he realized that not all of the power would regenerate on its own.

"I don't know about you," Dante countered angrily, "but I'm running out of steam. We'd better come up with a new plan soon, or this is going to be over before we know it."

Beatrice yanked at the flow of energy, and Robin doubled over in pain. "I can't last much longer," she gasped, and Dante knew it was true. If he didn't use his devil trigger now, he wouldn't have a chance or a reason to use it afterward.

Then, he heard that unnatural, bestial scream again, and his gaze snapped back to the gate. It was far wider than it had been before, and the Abyss Goat he had heard making noise earlier finally tore through the opening, beating its wings as it leapt into the sky. Two more followed the first and Dante cursed, letting go of Robin's arm.

"Dante!" she cried, but he didn't take the time to look back.

"Sorry babe. We have to stop those things before they get away. They breed like rabbits." Brandishing Ebony and Ivory, he released the power building up inside of him and went into full devil trigger, beating his wings to gain altitude quickly and pelting the creatures with bullets along the way.

---------

Hearing the desperation in the voices of their companions, Michael buried his head in his hands. It had finally become very obvious that there was absolutely nothing either he or Karasuma could do on their end to aid them at all. He had been screaming into the headset for a good five minutes before Karasuma finally gripped his shoulder tightly and told him quietly that they weren't listening anymore.

His body trembling with anger, Michael pushed himself from the desk finally, standing up and kicking the chair away violently. "We're useless," he said through clenched teeth, spinning around to face Karasuma. "All we can do is listen to them die."

She looked back at him with a similar expression of anguish, but then she reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out her phone, her expression changing to one of determination. "That's not entirely true," she said softly, pressing a series of buttons before shutting it again abruptly.

Looking at her in utter confusion, Michael shook his head. "What did you just do?"

Karasuma shifted her gaze back to the computer monitor. "You'll see soon enough."

Michael approached the computer again slowly, studying it anxiously. A minute later, he gasped in surprise as a large red shape appeared at the edge of the display. "What is _that_?"

---------

Robin watched Dante transform through the spots in her vision, feeling the power tearing away from her more quickly when he was gone, though Amon tried valiantly to hold it back on his own. She no longer had the strength to fight for it herself. She could feel her consciousness quickly slipping away, darkness wrapping around her like a heavy cloak. Straining for breath, she clung to Amon and turned to look up at him as she felt her legs buckle beneath her.

His eyes widened in alarm when her grip loosened on his shirt, and he guided her to the ground when she lost her strength entirely, cradling her in his arms. "Don't give up, Robin. Hold on," he repeated like a mantra, but she knew that it was already too late.

She looked up at him through eyes blurred with tears, and whispered, "Amon," though she didn't know if he could even hear her in the chaos. Reality began to crumble around her, the sounds of the battle fading to a distorted hum and numbness seeping through her body. The only sound that was still real to her was the frantic sound of Amon's breathing as he squeezed her tightly to his chest. Even his touch was starting to loose its reality, though, and she felt her eyes drifting closed. _Please, God, _she cried in her mind, _don't let it end like this!_

"No!" the word tore through her heart as Amon sobbed against her hair. "Don't leave me!"

**----------**

A small smile touched his lips as he rose through the chaos between the worlds, his shackles finally broken. How many ages had passed in this world while he hung in that place, suspended in limbo between his own world and this one, the human world? How long had he waited, searching both worlds for an easy tool to orchestrate his release? He could no longer remember...but time no longer mattered. He was free.

**Nobody: This is actually the name of that creature from the games, but when I found out their real name I died laughing. Anyone who's played any Kingdom Hearts II will know why. I kept hearing Christopher Lee in my head saying "No...bodies." And then, because he's Christopher Lee, I also heard him say, "They are nothing more than _foooooolllls_."**

**Butter in Hell: A reference to _Cold Comfort Farm_. I've only seen the movie adaptation, but there's a fiery preacher (played by Ian McKellan) who talks about how terrible hell is going to be and that when you get burned by the fires of hell you won't even be able to put butter on your burn as a salve because "there'll be no butter in hell!" It's always cracked me up, and with all the hell references...**

**Who would have guessed that "Libera Me" referred to freeing Beatrice's master? Not me. ;) I think it might have been in the back of my mind all along, but I'm glad I didn't spoil myself until the last second. So...**

**IT'S OVER! Or not...**

**As those of you who have me on Author Alert have probably already noticed, I've posted the first chapter of a sequel to this story (titled "Confutatis") as well. It's two for one week in Yellow Dancer land! One other important point to mention is that I've uploaded a revised version of Dante's dream sequence back in Chapter 15. It will become more important consistency-wise as the story continues in Confutatis, so I thought I should mention it here. One last little note about Confutatis: I wanted to give it a higher rating, so you will have to search for it with "M" ratings selected.**

**So, I'm sure some of you are wondering why I decided to stop this story here and start a new one. I guess I just felt that at some point people would get tired of scrolling through the endless list of chapters in this story, and this chapter really had the feeling of the end of a season--if this was a TV show and not a fanfiction. I'm a sucker for multipart stories anyway. ;)**

**Oh, and a random aside that really doesn't make much difference now that this is the last chapter... Someone pointed out to me in a review that there are a lot of stories on this website by the name of "Libera Me," and I wanted to bring it up and see if anyone else had noticed it too. I remember when I used to want to find my story on the website quickly and didn't feel like logging in, I would do a search and it was the only one by this name. Now there are like dozens. What's that about? Seriously. Is there some reference in pop culture recently that's made it popular, or what? If anyone has an answer, I'm curious to know. (I almost named the sequel "Dies Irae," but that's a REALLY overused title on ffnet--besides, Confutatis is a frickin' awesome movement in Mozart's requiem.)**

**See you in the sequel! Don't forget to leave a review before you move on though. It's your last chance to review this story. :)**


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